


Salt

by lotorslance



Series: Saltverse [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Lance turns Lotor into space goo, Langst, Long-Distance Relationship, Lotor spoiling Lance, M/M, Minor season 3 spoilers, Soft Lancelot, platonic hance, racism expressed towards humans and hybrids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-12 20:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotorslance/pseuds/lotorslance
Summary: Lance’s voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke: “I don’t need to be saved. I came here ‘cause I wanted to.”This is the story of how Lance ended up at Lotor's side.





	1. Found

“Lance!”  
  
The group of Paladins came running towards them, a mix of fear and relief on their faces. They had finally been allowed in to Lotor’s private quarters, upon his request.  
  
Lance grimaced, finally looking up from the random spot on the ground he had been staring at as he thought, no longer being able to avoid the confrontation he’d been running from.  
  
“We are here to save you!” Allura stated the obvious, giving him a nervous smile as Lance finally looked in their direction.  
  
Lotor turned his head, his chin still resting on his knuckles, leaning on his chair’s armrest. He looked not at the group of Paladins, but Lance, watching his reaction.  
  
“What are you doing?!”  
  
“We need to get out of here!”  
  
“Let’s go before they change their mind!”  
  
Who was even speaking what? Lance couldn’t tell: he was staring right at all of them, he could hear them, but it was like his anxiety was eating him alive and he was left with a bunch of puzzle pieces floating around his brain, unable to connect one with the other.  
  
“Lance?”  
  
He had been dreading this moment.  
  
“Uh, so why isn’t he tied up or anything?”  
  
How could he tell them face-to-face like this? His world was closing around him, his stomach twisting at the very idea of explaining himself. Was he going to pull a Hunk?  
  
That thought made his lips quirk into a little smile, and it gave him the power to rise to his feet, albeit his legs shook. Maybe he would throw up. Maybe it would make things somehow less awkward. Lance could only hope.  
  
As he opened his mouth, he mentally prepared himself for whatever would pour out, whether it be the truth or vomit.  
  
But he didn’t vomit. His voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke: “I don’t need to be saved.”  
  
No one really knew what to say. As they were silent, he carried on, looking back at Lotor, who was still gazing at him with immense curiosity. “I wasn’t kidnapped. I came here ‘cause I wanted to.”  
  
“Why? Why would you ever _want_ to?” This time, Lance could decipher who the voice belonged to. Keith had been the first to gather his bearings and speak up.  
  
“He’s tricking you!”  
  
“How could you fall for something like this?!”  
  
Yeah. He knew it’d hurt like this. The pieces that were finally beginning to form a full picture toppled back to the ground in a scrambled mess.  
  
Losing his previous confidence, he sank back down into his chair, nearly missing it with his bum. His chest tightened and he felt his eyes prick, on the verge of tears. He was supposed to have explained everything to them before they came to find him, to get everyone to understand that their goals weren’t all that different and that they needed to open their eyes and consider a new tactic moving forward.  
  
But he couldn’t say any of that right now.  
  
Everything was fuzzy, until he felt a cool touch on his hand. His eyes focused on the slender fingers now tenderly caressing his own. The little patterns being traced on his skin comforted him immensely.  
  
“It’s possible he’s under some kind of _mind control_ that—” Shiro had his arm out, stopping the others from moving any closer. Were they trying to attack? Or did they think…they couldn’t possibly, right? Have they lost all trust with him, now, that they’d even think that?  
  
“ _No!_ ” Lance rose back to his feet, feeling a lot more powerful this time, especially when Lotor stood up, too, taking his place next to Lance. “I’m not being tricked, or mind controlled, or anything! I’m trying to tell you, we _all_ misjudged—”  
  
“Lotor is the _son_ of—“  
  
“—all misjudged _each other!_ ” He rose his voice: he didn’t want to hear the reprimands any longer. He was well aware of the situation. He’d spent many quintents reminding himself of it, nearly making himself sick, trying to figure out how to explain it all to the Pala—no, they were his friends, his _family_. “…I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”  
  
“Tell us what, exactly?” Keith crossed his arms, “and why isn’t _he_ saying anything?”  
  
On that cue, Lotor left Lance’s side, taking careful steps forward. “Fear not, Paladins. I, Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire, have done nothing. He has not been tampered with or tricked, nor would I stoop to such lows. What I find more alarming is how upset his ‘friends’ are making him. He told me you would understand, however… _this_ kind of rejection from those he trusts with his _life_ is—”  
  
“N-no. They have a right to be mad, or whatever.” Lance interrupted once more. Lotor turned to him curiously, reaching up to play with the lock of silver hair draped over his eye.  
  
And they did have a right, he just wished they weren’t. Not being able to face that fact any longer, he turned on his heel to leave, but Hunk’s voice stopped him. “Lance! Can’t you at least _tell us_ insteada leavin’ it a _mystery_ for us to piece together?!”  
  
He stood frozen in place for a long tick before heaving a sigh, and stuffing his hands into his jeans’ front pockets. “I _like_ Lotor,” the words poured out easier than anything he’d said all day, “We’re _together_ , okay?” It sounded really dumb when he said it, like he was some moody teenager introducing his first romantic interest to his parents and didn’t really know what he was getting into or what he wanted…but the bond they’d formed was so much more than that, Lance was sure. He just hated putting a label on it.  
  
The silence of the group spoke louder than words ever could, and it was driving Lance crazy. He turned to face them to further explain himself. “I wasn’t tryna abandon Voltron, or you guys, or the mission, or anything, I just…things _happened_. Plus, you have five Paladins. You don’t need me, anyway!” He shrugged, trying his best to play it cool despite his voice cracking mid-sentence. “So…so, I’m staying here.”  
  
Lotor was next to make a move, wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulders. He leaned in, whispering something to his ear, and Lance nodded.  
  
“We need a moment. You will be shown to the parlor for the time being.” Lotor snapped his fingers, and the guards, whom had been silently watching the entire time, moved towards the shocked team. But the guards showed no signs of aggression and with an understanding gaze between them all and a nod from Shiro, they allowed themselves to be peacefully led out, while the Prince lead Lance to their bedroom.  
  
“That was terrible,” he groaned, sprawling out on the bed. With a small “oof,” he felt all the pressure and anxiety begin to dissipate.  
  
“Are you sure you have not overestimated them?”  
  
Lotor didn’t seem too impressed. While Lance had confidently reassured him over and over that his friends would understand, he’d always doubted their acceptance. Rejection was definitely not a new concept for Lotor: he’d been discriminated against all his life and it was only a reasonable assumption that the trend would repeat throughout several aspects of his life.  
  
Lance hooked his arms around his neck, looking upside-down at him from his strange position in bed, a smile creeping to his lips when he saw the slightly puzzled look on his lover’s face.  
  
“What is it?” Lotor asked softly, watching curiously as Lance collected himself back up, twisting around on the bed and positioning himself in his lap, straddling either thigh with his knees.  
  
“It’s weird.”  
  
The Prince cocked a brow, and Lance let out a chuckle before expanding on his thought. “When I look at you, it’s like everything’s _okay_ , even though it’s _not_.”  
  
“It is,” He reassured him, sighing as he brought his hand to cup the human’s warm cheek. _‘How silly he is,’_ he thought fondly.  
  
Lance’s smile fell, then, and his head tilted so that his cheek pressed into the caressing hand. “It’s not. I need to go out there and talk to them. Tell them everything.”  
  
“They need time, as do you, Beloved.”  
  
“How much?” His brow furrowed, impatience evident.  
  
“That I do not know.”  
  
With an irritated sigh, Lance leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, his own hand reaching up and tangling in the silky, silver strands that always seemed to beg to be touched…at least by Lance. It wasn’t long before their lips met in a wet embrace. It made Lance’s heart flutter happily, all his insecurities disappearing completely as he let out his feelings.  
  
After everything he had heard about Lotor, he hadn’t expected who he’d found. Not someone so gentle, yet strong, and stable, charming, but somehow strangely sincere, and beautiful. _God,_ he was beautiful, more than any girl he’d seen before, on Earth _or_ in space. But besides looks and his skill as a wonderful conversationalist, it was the way he comforted Lance, addressed his insecurities and accepted them. He’d even shared his own, and that was when Lance really fell. To know that their enemy, Zarkon’s son, _Prince of the Galra Empire,_ even felt self doubt…it somehow comforted him greatly.  
  
Like he’d said, this whole thing was weird. _‘But good-weird,’_ he thought with a small smile, and continued pressing his lips insistently up against the other’s. When he had to pull away to breathe, Lotor sighed, opening his eyes back up to admire his precious Paladin.  
  
“I wish you’d allow me to take you on a ride. We could watch the stars; perhaps spend some time on a Galra resort planet, and you could unwind, free of worry from all of this.”  
  
Lance shook his head. As much as he wanted to give in to the spoiling, this was something he had to face, and he had been putting it off for awhile now. It was even worse that he’d made his team worry about him disappearing, and put them in danger by making them come find him. He had been planning on telling them, without a messy situation like this, but he just hadn’t found the words in time.  
  
“I can’t. I have to do this…as awkward as it is.”  
  
“What do you fear so much?” he asked softly.  
  
“I don’t know. I’m afraid…,” he gave it a little thought, “…that they won’t agree with us, and what if they don’t want to work together?”  
  
“Then they are fools.”  
  
His brow furrowed. “But they’re still my _friends_.”  
  
“You must rest, then we can hold another audience with them and will explain everything together.” His hands began to work at Lance’s baseball tee, pulling it off his form easily so he could be more comfortable. Lance slipped off the bed, kicking his sneakers to the side before crawling back in under the covers, which felt so nice…so cool and soft on his heated skin.  
  
The Prince leaned over him, kissing the top of his head once he'd gotten situated. “Do you want me to stay?”  
  
He nodded as his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t want to sleep; he wanted to go out there and confront his fears as Lotor had taught him to do…but the idea of sleep was getting more and more appealing once he actually let his body start sinking into the plush mattress.  
  
“Then you must say it,” Lotor teased, his voice nothing but a soft puff of warm breath against his face.  
  
Giving a reluctant whine, he turned away, rolling on to his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow.  
  
“Well, then,” he sighed, getting up from the bed, but before he could even take a step, Lance reached out and snatched his wrist, making him pause.  
  
After a tick, the weight on the bedside returned, and Lance smiled, finally giving him what he wanted to hear. “I want your _cute Galra butt_ right here with me.”  
  
“ _My…,_ ” exclaimed the said ‘cute Galra’. Lance snorted.  
  
“After we tell them everything, I wanna eat, like…mmm, a _burger_. The closest thing I can find to a burger. And fries. Really, _really_ salty fries.”  
  
“I do not know what you’re going on about,” Lotor smiled as he pet his head.  
  
Hunk would know what meant. Hunk would make him whatever he could and he’d make it with all his heart. It’d look like a burger, it’d taste like a burger, and it’d be the closest thing he could get to a burger without going back home. The thoughts made him wilt a bit, knowing that very friend was out there, waiting for answers that only Lance could provide.  
  
Sensing the change in demeanor, Lotor quickly tried to remedy the situation. “But I will try my best to find this ‘burger’ you so desire.”  
  
That warmed Lance right back up, and he rolled to face him, emotions coming to a head and tears finally deciding to surface. Lotor blinked, even more confused by Lance’s reaction. He was smiling, but those tears…  
  
He gently wiped them away with his thumb.  
  
“Sorry,” Lance mumbled.  
  
He shook his head with a sigh. No matter how many times he had to say it, he would—over and over, until Lance finally believed it himself. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”  
  
“Thanks,” he let out a shuddering breath, placing his hand on top of Lotor’s, cupping it affectionately as he sniffed. “I’m gonna see if Hunk will cook for us. Then you’ll finally be able to taste his cooking. It’s _amazing_ , like, we always said he could have totally become a chef, but he’s also really good with technology and stuff. Obviously he's meant to be here, or he wouldn't be. Which is sort of unexpected, but then when he and Pidge get going on all their weird tech talk it’s just like—”  
  
“ _Rest_ ,” Lotor chuckled, patting his cheek before standing up and beginning to remove his armor. At first, Lance protested as he left the bed, but when he saw why, he didn’t voice any more complaints.  
  
He gave his wet face a wipe with his palms for good measure, then watched his Prince undress to his under-armor before crawling in next to him under the covers. They spooned and it was then that Lance could truly give in, eventually slipping away into the comfort of his dreams, which were not stress-ridden like the real world, but rather peaceful.  
  
Burgers, and the team…Coran, the little mice, and the castle. Everyone was laughing. Keith was being stupid. Shiro was politely listening as Pidge ranted about something Lance didn't understand, and Hunk was serving up fresh French fries to go with the burgers, all glittering with an obscene amount of delectable salt. It was when he realized Lotor was missing amidst this happy scene that he woke with a start, feeling a bit unsettled.  
  
As he sat up in bed, he realized Lotor was still there in bed with him, his eyes shut, his brows unusually relaxed, and his ear twitching slightly. Unable to stop himself, he caressed the ear, rubbing it like it was a kitten’s. With that, indigo eyes were on him, twinkling with some kind of amusement.  
  
“Are you ready?” he asked, when Lance provided no explanation for the sudden ear rubs. The human’s playful grin was replaced with a straight line, and he nodded seriously. “Then let us tell them everything.” 


	2. Beginnings

“How long have we been here?”  
  
“I do not know…”  
  
“Just be glad we’re not being incarcerated! We broke in to a Galra ship, destroyed countless robot guards, and—”  
  
“Pidge, do you know something we don’t?” Shiro interrupted Keith after having observed her quietly for some time. She looked up from her lap, a startled look on her face after hearing her name called.  
  
“What? What’d’ya know?” Hunk frowned as he and the rest of the group all turned their heads to her.  
  
“It’s not that I knew, exactly…but I was aware of some…strange communications originating from Lance’s Lion,” she replied in a guilt-ridden voice, beating herself up for having held back sharing this information for so long. Never had she imagined it would have been something this major.  
  
“Now that you mention it…”  
  
“Yeah, remember all those times he’d sneak to his Lion and act like no one could hear him get up in the middle of the night?”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“Why didn’t you look into the transmission if you knew about them?”  
  
“I didn’t want to pry…we’re a team, right?” Her eyes fell back down to her lap and she squirmed in her seat anxiously. “I know what it’s like to want to keep secrets. I didn’t want to force it out of him if he wasn’t ready.”  
  
No one spoke. They all understood that much, but there were so many other things that didn’t make sense. Just as Allura lifted her head and opened her mouth to try to say something in attempt of cheering them all up, the mechanical doors slid open with a soft whir, and Lance and Lotor came into view.  
  
Lance sheepishly switched his hands from his front pockets to his back ones, and to the front again, unsure of what to do with them. He couldn’t look in the Paladins’ direction, the guilt flooding back into his system. The only thing pushing him forward was that dream he’d just had; all those happy memories, with so many more to come. If they could only put their issues aside and make peace with Lotor…then perhaps he wouldn’t have to only dream of it any more.  
  
“Sit, Beloved.” The Prince gently pried one of his hands out of his jeans’ pocket and lead him to the benches the others were resting on, sitting down himself and crossing his legs. Everyone tensed up. Lance followed suit, still looking everywhere but at his friends’ faces. “Where would you like to begin?”  
  
“I…I dunno,” he shook his head, their eyes meeting one another. With a squeeze of his hand, he had the courage to get comfortable, crossing his own legs and starting his explanation: “I guess…first of all, I wanna say that I’m sorry.”  
  
Tearing his eyes away from Lotor, they moved from Keith, to Shiro, to Pidge, Allura…and lastly, Hunk, looking each one square in their eye. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you guys from the start.” He took a big, deep breath, then began his side of the story. “Remember…that day where we were bein’ chased by a buncha Galra fighter ships, and I was still getting used to the Red Lion? The morning Hunk made space-goo-filled donuts...and we couldn’t form Voltron?”  
  
They nodded, and he heard a few “yeahs” and “rights”. So he continued.  
  
“That day…,” His features tightened, but he reminded himself this was not a sad thing he had to relive. This had been the start of a new chapter. _‘A good chapter,’_ Lance reassured himself.

* * *

“Lance!”  
  
“I’m—I’m workin’ on it!”  
  
“Where’re you _going_ , Lance?!”  
  
“It’s like..the Red Lion is moving on its own! _Too fast!_ ”  
  
“ _Assert control!_ ” Keith commanded with gritted teeth. Allura had been forced to figure out how to pilot her Lion by being put in a terrifying situation, but Lance was still struggling here and there. He’d even gone to him and confided in him, so Keith was well aware of the situation, but at a time like this, when they were getting chased by a hoard Galra fighters? _'Not the best time to be feeling self-doubt, and having your control over the Lion waiver,’_ he thought.  
  
“R-right, right!” But the demands only made the Blue Paladin tense up even more, nearly forgetting how to fly. With a scream, he slammed his eyes shut, knowing he was speeding head-first into an enemy ship. Never before had he felt so useless, so out of place on this team…but the gut-wrenching screech of metal-on-metal stopped the self-deprecating thoughts before they devoured him whole. As he opened his eyes, he realized he had only grazed the ship, not crashed. That gave Lance enough confidence to take back control, turn around, and get back to the rest of his team as Keith shouted, “Retreat!” into his headset.  
  
Why had that fighter flown right into him? Crashing into him would be just as bad for the other party, would it not? In fact, the Lion probably would have been able to withstand the collision, it’d be the other ship that would have taken a hit…  
  
“They were just chasing us around…”  
  
“I’m not sure what they’re up to, but it can’t be anything good.”  
  
“We need to debrief.”  
  
Puzzling thoughts crowded Lance’s mind as they all made their way back to the castle to get back to Allura and Coran and report what they had found on their reconnaissance mission—which hadn’t been much: they hadn’t expected to run in to the Galra on a simple scouting mission. However, even more bizarre was that the fleet did not attack them, but rather, simply chased them around like a game of tag.  
  
As the other Paladins climbed out of their Lions, returning to the main deck for a debriefing, Lance stayed put.  
  
He leaned back in his seat with a groan. “That was terrible. What’s _wrong_ with me? How can I step up, like Allura…”  
  
“Security.”  
  
_‘Security?’_ He supposed that was something he needed to focus on in general, but…wait.  
  
“You must not only be secure with your team, but with _yourself_. In this moment, _you_ are your greatest enemy.”  
  
Lance blinked, straightening up and looking around the Lion. There was no one here, right? He was alone, the rest of the team was gone, it was just him and the Lion and he—  
  
The lion! Was it…it couldn’t be…“Wait, are you…are you _talking_ to me?”  
  
“Yes,” the deep voice sounded amused now. So the Lion had emotions, too?  
  
_‘Dude, the Lion’s talking to me. And it sounds…suave? I’ve lost it. I’ve lost it! Wait, was this always a thing with the Red Lion? Is this some kinda next-level bonding or something? I should ask Keith if it ever did this…’_  
  
“Wait…you’re a _dude?!_ ”  
  
The voice was silent as Lance took this new piece of information in. He’d always just assumed the Lions were females, since, “You know, ships are usually girls…” he mumbled to himself, quickly forgetting about all his self-doubt as he took in this new information. When the voice continued to stay silent, he spoke up once again.  
  
“Um, soooo…sorry about today, I guess.”  
  
“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Was a robot Lion supposed to sound this gentle? Its voice was smooth like butter, and had some kind of accent to it.  
  
“No, no, like, today I was…I was a _mess_ ,” he sighed, “…and I guess what the others have been saying lately is just…it’s been _getting_ to me. I came into this thinking I was secure as heck, but the more I do this whole ‘Paladin’ gig, the more I…I dunno. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Honestly? I just want to go home.”  
  
The voice made a sound of acknowledgement.  
  
“It’s only a matter of time before Shiro can figure his stuff out and take back the Black Lion. So that leaves Keith. And I…I talked to him about it, but…what if he was only saying those things to make me feel better?”  
  
“Saying what?”  
  
Lance sighed. “That I didn’t have to worry. That things would work themselves out. I mean, they usually do, but…it doesn’t even seem like _you_ want me. I just keep thinking of what everyone keeps saying...”    
  
“People will say whatever they wish, but just because they say it does not mean you have to listen.”  
  
“So you’re saying I should just totally ignore it? But how can I? The thoughts just keep coming up in my head…at the stupidest times, too, like today.”  
  
“Perhaps find something else to think about.”  
  
“Like what? Like…like _home?_ ” Lance’s tone turned a bit bitter, and he snorted. “Yeah, as if I’ll be going _there_ any time soon.”  
  
“Think of the positives: your strengths, your successes…”  
  
Finding and piloting the Blue Lion on Earth, saving the mermaids, escaping the Space Mall’s security guard, retrieving Slav from Beta Traz…  
  
Yeah, after giving it some thought, he’d had some pretty heroic moments on Team Voltron. Maybe he wasn’t so useless, after all. It’s not like the Red Lion’s completely ignoring him. He was still able to pilot it.  
  
“Yeah…yeah! You're right. Well, thanks for the talk, Red.”  
  
“Red?”  
  
Lance didn’t reply to the voice’s questioning tone. “I’ma go see what they’re all doin’, maybe get a good workout in. I’m more motivated than ever! Yeah, _‘Six-Pack-Lance,’_ here I _coommee_ ~!” He ripped off his helmet and hopped out of the Lion, going to meet up with the others with his newfound excitement.    
  
Lotor removed his helmet as the transmission was severed. His plan had worked—he had successfully connected to one of the Lions’ communication systems, and it seemed it was able to remain connected across large distances. However, he couldn’t help but feel something strange brewing within him. It wasn’t necessarily unsettling, just different, though he couldn’t place what it was, and as he looked down at his helmet and was faced with his own reflection, he realized he was smiling.  
  
How silly that Paladin had been…no wonder he was flying so poorly earlier. He tried to focus on that, and not how _cute_ his voice had been just now.  
  
He stood up, tracing his fingers lightly over his own stomach. He had a six-pack, right? Feeling absolutely ridiculous for the moment of doubt, he clicked his tongue, forced his hand away from his armored abs and climbed out of the cockpit, returning to the rest of his team to report success.  
  
_‘Lance, did he say his name was?’_ Lotor blinked, in the midst of his report.  
  
“Prince Lotor?”  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
His generals’ concerned voices reached him with delay, and he forced the idea of Lance out of his mind and continued on…but what did it mean when, like Lance’s insecurities that kept insistently finding their way to his mind’s surface at the most inconvenient times, Lotor kept thinking of the Paladin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the support has been amazing and much appreciated. Thank you for the warm welcome! o / The next chapter should probably be up within the week!


	3. Cookies

“I didn’t even realize I’d told you my name just then,” Lance recalled fondly, with a smile now on his face as he turned back to Lotor.   
  
“You thought…you were talking to the _Lion?”_ Pidge was holding back her laughter the entire time, and finally, it all burst out. It sort of put everyone else at ease, Lance included.   
  
“ _Hey!_ If you were in my position, you’d have thought so, too!” He defended himself to the group, his smile turning to a pout, beginning to feel a lot less like a traitor and a lot more like himself. So far, it hadn’t even been too bad. A little teasing had been more than expected, and they didn’t seem to hate him yet.  
  
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t blame ya, Bro. I’d _totally_ think it was the Lion!”   
  
“ _Thank you,_ Hunk.”   
  
Lotor tightened his hold on Lance’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.   
  
“Did I forget anything?” he turned back to his partner who shook his head no.   
  
“Everything seems to be correct thus far.”  
  
“Hmm, what next?”  
  
“The cookies,” encouraged Lotor softly and Lance leaned his head back with a groan, causing the Prince to smile, brows knit upwards in a slightly sympathetic expression. Given their reactions, they both clearly recalled that particular memory.  
  
“What cookies? What cookies are you gonna talk about? My cookies?” Hunk asked after the Paladins had all exchanged questioning glances.  
  
“No, no. _My_ cookies,” Lance corrected him, a grin on his face just by remembering the event that he could now look back at fondly. It had gotten him just a little closer to Lotor.

* * *

“Well, so much for that…”  
  
“They’re still good,” Hunk picked one up, biting into the freshly baked treat fearlessly in order to encourage his best friend. There was a silence, and Lance watched with baited breath, then groaned as Hunk pulled it away from his mouth, starting to cough and make sounds of disgust.   
  
“Okay, okay…so, maybe they’re not edible! They still _look_ nice!”  
  
“Man, just say it. I messed up!”   
  
“Did you use…,” he looked at the cookie from the front and back, trying to diagnose the problem—they looked like cookies, but had turned out rock-hard, “…something salty? Instead of sweet? That sugar substitute?”   
  
The color drained from Lance’s face and he crouched down to the ground, hands on his head in embarrassment. “Aw, man!”   
  
“I told you! _This_ is the sugary stuff!” He lifted up a container of yellow goo that had been pushed off to the side, forgotten, sloshing it around to make his point. Seeing the depressed state the Blue Paladin was in, he put the container back on the cupboard and crouched next to Lance, reaching over and putting a hand under each arm pit, hoisting him back up. “You tried, Dude. Let’s make them again.”  
  
“Nah, man, not today,” he avoided his gaze and brushed him off, heading to his private quarters, ignoring as Hunk called after him. He didn’t know why he was so legitimately upset…he had felt so happy when baking, like he’d been on top of the world; a world all that he shared with _him._ All he thought about the whole time was…  
  
…he blushed, covering his face, now heated up with embarrassment. Why had he even been thinking about making cookies for him? That was something a _girl_ did for their crush on Valentine’s Day or something, and he wouldn’t even be able to eat them anyway: they’d never met…what if he didn’t even have a mouth?!   
  
“Well he _talks_ so he has a mouth, right? Unless it’s some kind of telepathic…nah, you couldn’t do that over a headset. I wonder if he has teeth, though? Space goo is popular because it doesn’t really have to be chewed…lots of aliens don’t really have teeth…huh…” He thought of Coran, and Allura—they were very human-like so perhaps the stranger was, too?   
  
He rolled on his side…Valentine’s Day, though. Was it coming up? He had no idea how long it’d been since he’d left Earth. If only he could have said a proper goodbye, this whole thing would have been so much easier…  
  
Closing his eyes, he fought the unmistakable sting in his nose, warning him he was about to cry. He shouldn’t think about home too much; it never lead to anything productive, just sulking in his room for the remainder of his free time.   
  
That was how it used to be. Now, in times like these, he fled to his Lion.  
  
“Where you going, Lance? Training's in a varga!”  
  
“Will be there!” Lance called to Coran as he ran down the hallway with a brief wave of his hand, “Goin’ for a test-drive!”   
  
He’d been going on lots of “test drives,” lately. It was always a gamble…sometimes the voice would reply to him, other times it would not. He’d ask if he was there, give it a few minutes, then ask again before giving up, turning around, and heading back to the castle.  
  
Luckily, today seemed to be a day where the voice actually was there. Giving it little-to-no thought as to how or why the voice was readily available to chat, Lance told him all about the cookie disaster, leaving out the part about having wanted to make them as practice for a time when he actually could bake them as a gift for him.

* * *

Patterns began to emerge. The team would eat, train, eat, have a mission briefing, go on said mission, shower, sleep, and repeat. The idea that the Galra were planning a massive attack in the near future was brought up often: what else could they be so busy with that they were not after Voltron anymore?  
  
Regardless, they couldn’t really complain about the peace, either. The missions they’d been dispatching on were simple and easy, like recovering new and better parts for the castle ship, or making colonies feel more at ease with their newfound freedom under Voltron’s protection.   
  
After everyone went to bed, Lance would go to his Lion and initiate the strange communication by placing his helmet on. As more time passed, Lance had begun wracking his brain day and night with the question of who exactly was on the other side of these transmissions. He knew it wasn’t the Red Lion…in fact, he’d probably known that the entire time, but he kept avoiding that confrontation. For now, it was someone he had that would listen to him without judgement, and that felt damn good. Maybe that was all that mattered.  
  
“Have you ever had pancakes?”   
  
“Pan…cakes? Cakes, yes, I have heard of, however, _‘pan’_ …”   
  
“They’re not really cakes,” Lance grinned, sitting back in his seat, arms behind his head comfortably, “They’re like flat…cakey-like things, that cook in a pan insteada an oven. Thus, the ‘pan.’ See, there’s a lotta Earth stuff we haven’t really found in space yet, but we can still find things that sort of taste the same. ‘Course, Hunk is way better than me at putting all these weird things together and figuring out what tastes like home, but I’ve been tryna _spice up_ my cooking skills, _if you know what I mean.”_  
  
The voice was silent.  
  
“You know, _spice it up?_ Like, ‘cause we’re talking about _cooking_? With _spices?”_  
  
Finally, a chuckle, and the Paladin grinned in victory. Even though he’d have to explain his humor sometimes, the other seemed to seriously enjoy it, unlike most of his teammates, who’d grown tired of his puns and one-liners.   
  
“Anyway, pancakes’re a great place to start. You only need a few ingredients. I’m gonna try to make some tomorrow morning, if we don’t get interrupted again by the _Galra_ attacking or somethin'.” The eyeroll was evident in Lance’s tone as he went on. Even though Galra attacks had been less and less as of late, Allura consistently reminded them all they needed to be on their toes, sometimes even running drills to make sure they were still as sharp as they used to be.  
  
Said Galra was completely content listening to the Lance's rambles instead of attacking Team Voltron and trying to conquer worlds. He was interested in the human’s home planet, their strange cultures, traditions, and foods, which were all so different from how he’d grown up himself. “Hopefully they will not end up as the cookies.”  
  
“Hey!” Lance was about to deny it—but then started laughing. Yeah, the cookies had sort of been a bit of a failure. “Not my fault all your alien stuff looks weird and hard-to-tell-apart!”   
  
There was a bit of a pause as Lance realized what he’d just said. _‘Your alien stuff,’_ he thought back to himself, realizing that he had acknowledged the voice on the other end of the transmission was an alien. But what kind was he…? Curiosity overtook him, and he was about to ask, when —   
  
“I’m not one for cooking, myself.”   
  
“Don’t you have to cook? Or do your parents do it for you?”  
  
“…No.”   
  
“My mom would always make this amazing—wait, _‘no’?_ Do you live on your own?” he hounded, trying to get more answers about the mystery stranger. He hadn’t really picked on the somehow sad shift in the other’s tone.   
  
Lotor leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft sigh as he stared into space, sprawled out in front of him as he contemplated how to answer, stars sparkling. They reminded him of Lance, so eager to always shine their brightest…  
  
Lance pouted when he heard the sigh, and the prolonged silence. “What? _What, w_ _hat!”_  
   
“I have others that cook for me. However, it is not like what you humans eat.”   
  
Okay, so he _definitely_ wasn’t a human. That wasn’t that big of a surprise, but, still…  
  
“Oh, that space goo stuff? I mean, it’s good sometimes, and Coran says it's healthy, but…ah, man, I guess I’m totally spoiled with Hunk’s cooking.”   
  
“I suppose so.”  
  
“Wait, so...you don’t know how to cook at all?”  
  
“I do not.”   
  
“Then maybe I could teach you!” Lance beamed at the prospect. Perhaps he could even use it as an excuse to invite him to the Castle ship (should Allura allow it), or to meet up with him.   
  
There was a pause, and then it was clear that Lotor was smiling as he spoke in a teasing tone, “Teach me to make salt cookies?"  
  
“Oh, shut up! It was _one time!”_   
  
Lotor chuckled, and it caused Lance to laugh, too. “I know. I apologize. I will stop,” he said as he composed himself.   
  
“You don’t have to,” Lance replied, a lot softer than he had intended. When he was met with silence, he cleared his throat and quickly realized how awkward that’d been. But still, Lotor did not speak. He was pondering on many things, having to choose which he thought was best to change the subject with, but Lance awkwardly continued, instead, “It’s funny because sugar and salt are easily mistaken on Earth, too. They’re both like, white, powdery things that look pretty much the same. Then here, they’re like, both yellowy goo blobs…”  
  
“I believe the ‘sugar’ is more vibrant in color.”  
  
“…Yeah. Honestly, they looked okay. The cookies; like, a pinky-orange color, and more goldish on the bottom. On Earth they're sorta tan and brown. But these were so _hard._ Like, _tooth-breaking_ hard. Hunk couldn't even bite into it."    
  
“You are not familiar with our plants, minerals, animals…I believe I would be in a similar situation should I visit your planet and attempt to cook with mysterious ingredients.”   
  
“Dude! I’d wanna see you try! Like, cooking? With my Mom? Ohhhh boy, and my _nephews_ are even harder to please.”   
  
Lotor was smiling ear-to-ear, just as Lance was at the idea of visiting—returning to Earth—with him. It was silly to think about something like this, they both knew it. Lotor was well aware that he should not be talking to a Paladin of Voltron like this and Lance knew he shouldn’t be telling his life story to a disembodied voice. But neither of them could help it—both of them were seeking comfort in each other's presence, despite the strange circumstances they communicated in.   
  
_‘It’d be easier if I asked him his name…then it wouldn’t be so weird. But, no, wait, it actually would be still weird, huh? If I told the others, what would they think?’_ He sighed. _'That I’m crazy, probably.’_  
  
“What is the matter?”  
  
“Just got a lotta stuff floating around my head.”  
  
“Do tell.”  
  
“Nah, man.”   
  
Lotor frowned, then, leaning forward in his seat. “You can tell me anything.”   
  
“I know. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just…ugh, okay, so,” he really couldn’t deny him, could he?, “I wish I could tell my friends about you. That’s all. Weird, I know.”   
  
“…I see.”

Not a good response. Abort mission!  
  
“…Yeah… _Quiznak!_ It's _late,_ I’m supposed to be _awake_ soon! I gotta go!”   
  
“Good night, Lance.”   
  
“Night!” He was about to pull off his helmet and end the communication, but just as his finger hovered over the button, Lotor called out his name.

His heart beginning to beat much faster upon hearing his name spoken in that _lovely_ accent, he breathed out a shaky, "Yeah?"

"I assure you, my fangs would be able to withstand your salt cookies."

"...Y-yeah?"

"And I am certain they would be delicious."

He stiffened, feeling his face grow redder than it already had been after his sudden confession. "T-Then...I'll...," great, why couldn't he talk smooth when it was actually _important?_ He chided himself as he searched for the courage to say the words that had been on his mind since he'd baked the cookies, "...I'll make some for you when we meet." 

"I look forward to it," the other hummed, rather liking the idea of meeting, which had finally been voiced for the first time.

"Me too...night!" Lance ripped off his helmet and shut off communications, crawling out of his Lion with a huff. “Good save, _Lance,”_ the Paladin mumbled to himself as he maneuvered back to his room to get at least an hour-long nap in before breakfast. He was a bit annoyed with himself, given his inability to think on his feet and be suave when it mattered most, but when he replayed the voice's words in his head...it was like butterflies were floating around his stomach, bringing a strange sense of peace and warmth as he pulled on his sleep mask. 

_When_ would they be able to meet?


	4. Prince

“Sorry about earlier,” Lance sighed as he got settled into the seat of the lion with his helmet on. He’d had to cut off the communications between them earlier during a mission, when the others had gotten curious as to why he kept ‘mumbling to himself.’ He knew he probably shouldn’t be talking to Mystery Man and fawning over his amazing accented voice while flying the Lion, but he had, and it had put him at a weird sort of ease, even if he had been chasing down some Galra ship at the same time.   
  
Unbeknownst to him, Lotor had still been able to hear everything, even after Lance had thought he’d turned it off. His inattentiveness had lead to him getting totally ratted out by his teammates. No one had gotten hurt, but Keith gave him an earful about how careless he was being as of late. It was almost painful to know _he_ was partially responsible for Lance's screw ups that made him the easy target of blame when missions didn't go completely as planned.   
  
“It’s all right. Your missions come first and foremost, after all.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“What’s on your mind?” Lotor asked curiously, raising a brow as he folded his hands neatly under his chin, elbows resting on either arm of his seat, ready for Lance to unload.   
  
“Sometimes I get tired of the missions. And like, I keep thinking...Shiro still can't fly the Black Lion. I dunno why, but...what if he can fly the _Red_ one? What if I'm...what if he's gonna _replace_ me? Honestly, the worst part is that he probably _should_ replace me...but it’s like...ugh...sometimes I feel like, no matter how hard I try, it’s never good enough, you know?"  
  
“…I know.”   
  
“Sorry I complain so much. I just really wanna go home right about now.” He paused after giving the voice’s response a little thought—Lance was able to pick up on the shift of tone this time, and he knew something was off, so he pressed it. “What… _happened?_ I mean, for you to 'know?' If that's what you meant. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Lotor sighed, leaning back in his seat, his helmet bumping against the headrest, “My father has just always held high standards that I could never meet.”   
  
It was easy for Lance to talk, especially lament about things he’d had bottled up in him since before they even came out to space, but he knew it was totally rare for the voice on the other end to actually open up. He needed to give him the chance to talk or he may never hear the answers he wished for, so he stayed silent and waited patiently for him to continue.   
  
“You miss your family. You miss home very much, don’t you, Lance? However…I would be elated if I were in your position, free from my family’s eyes and expectations. I cannot escape them.”   
  
“What…do they want?” Lance pried, getting totally lost in the other’s words.   
  
“They want me to become someone I am not; do things I do not want to do, care about things I do not care about, and forget about those that I do.”  
  
Lance tried to imagine what it must feel like. His family had always been loving and supportive of everything—his dreams of being a pilot, his quirky attitude and bad jokes, his flirtatious tendencies. It wasn’t until he’d gone to flight school that he began to feel like the world was against him, and that feeling only got worse when he joined Voltron, especially seeing how his fellow pilots grew so quickly compared to himself. They never really said it out loud, but as time had gone by, he felt like they implied he was the weakest link, especially when he had to change to the Red Lion.   
  
_‘How silly. What has gotten into me tonight? He’s got me acting utterly ridiculous,’_ Lotor thought to himself, still fighting for the strength to keep saying whatever was on his mind, to share his insecurity as Lance had been doing for so long; to open himself up, completely, with no shame, no turning back.  
  
This is the last time Lance decided he’d push, then he’d let it go: “Then… _who_ are you _now?”_ There was an eerie silence, his heartbeat the only thing he could hear, and for a moment, Lance thought he’d lost connection. “H-Hello? Y’there?”   
  
Lotor grit his teeth, not wanting to say it, but thought that perhaps it was time. If it all ended now, it would hurt less when he would no longer have this voice to come back to at the end of each sun.   
  
_'Wait, hurt "less?" It would hurt, losing this connection to Lance?'_ Lotor’s eyes widened slightly as he considered that fact, preparing himself thoroughly for that consequence, but just as he found the courage to open his mouth again, the door to the cockpit whirred open.  
  
“Excuse me, Prince—” a young woman’s voice said, but then the transmission went completely silent—no static to be heard. Lance held his breath, straining his ears and pleading his own heart to stop beating so darn loud as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.   
  
Nothing. The connection had been terminated.   
  
_‘Prince?’_  
  
“The heck does that mean…,” Lance muttered, replaying it over and over in his head. That definitely hadn’t been the man’s voice, it was much higher, and had a completely different accent to. All this time…was he in the same room with someone else while talking to him? A _girl?_

 _'Don't think about it. It was nothing.'_  
  
Lance began to wilt, tugging off his helmet, and letting it fall to the ground as he gave in to the dark suggestions he'd conjured up in his mind. He heard a distant purring—maybe it was the Lion trying to comfort him—but he felt as though his entire world was closing in on him. That dreadful feeling…

 _'Don't overreact. Stop overreacting, Lance.'_  
  
Clutching hopelessly at his chest, he fought the inevitable tears, and stormed out of the Lion, ripping off his armor and getting changed as they began to roll down his cheeks.  
  
 _‘He’s probably got a girlfriend. An amazing guy like him? Yeah. Yeah, I’m stupid. Stupid Lance, messing up and falling for anything like always! This whole thing was a huge mistake: he was with someone the whole time! Nothing was special. I wasn’t special!’_   
  
The more he thought about it, the more it hurt. After pulling his jeans back on, he fell to his knees and let out an audible sob, not caring how embarrassing it sounded, or how his nose was beginning to run. 

 _'I'm so dumb...'_  
  
No wound Lance had endured had ever seemed to sting this badly. 

* * *

_“What did I say about interrupting me?!”_ He snapped as he turned around to face her after tossing off his helmet, a dangerous scowl on his face. He did not typically lose his cool, but it had just felt as though he’d just been forcibly pulled out of the safe dreamworld he’d been building up with Lance, and at such a pivotal moment, too…  
  
Acxa blinked, then bowed her head in apology. “I’m sincerely sorry, Prince Lotor, but we’ve all been trying to contact you with _no_ response. We’re all worried out of our minds…”  
  
A prolonged moment passed and his face softened as he hid his face, shielding his eyes. He realized how the situation must have felt to his team: he knew he had been shutting them out, especially as of late—that was no good. However…  
  
Lotor parted his fingers just so and glanced between them to the headset sitting on the dashboard. His link to Lance…so suddenly and easily severed. The idea made an uncomfortable pang rock through his entire body, so much so that it nearly frightened him. What was this sick feeling?  
  
“You’ve just been sitting in here. We barely see you anymore…you haven’t been training as often, and your fighter has not even dispatched from the ship in _days._ Please, tell me…is everything all right?”  
  
“…I apologize for worrying you all. I’ve been tied up with a particularly pressing matter…let us return to base and we will catch up on the duties that’ve fallen off the radar.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Acxa paused on her way out. “Will you be returning to the deck, now?”  
  
He let out a sigh and forced himself up from his chair, reluctantly following her out and back up to the main deck. He owed it to his crew to spend some time with them and let them know he was more than okay, though he was more than disappointed he hadn’t been able to say goodbye properly to Lance, as Lance had not been able to earlier in the day during his mission.   
  
But while he was away from Lance’s voice, he missed him. It was beginning to prove quite troublesome: he could not focus on his work, relax with his squad, and all his previous schemes were now mostly forgotten. He wasn’t particularly acting on anything; it was like nothing else mattered, except for when Lance would tentatively ask if he was there, if he was listening, and then become an open book, going on and on about his day, telling Lotor detailed accounts of his friends, of his past, of what he ate, of the people and things he missed. He never wanted to miss that opportunity; he just wanted to always be there when Lance called for him.  
  
He just wanted to hear him call his actual _name._   
  
Never before had he met anyone that he felt so strongly about…however, Lance was a Paladin, a pilot of Voltron, his father’s _greatest enemy_. He knew this, yet…  
  
…he was _not_ his father. 

Thus, he'd decided he would arrange to meet Lance, somewhere public and out in the open, so he wouldn't feel cornered, and tell him his full name, title included. Even if it meant Lance would never speak to him again, Lotor thought he could be content just having met with him face-to-face, at least once. He didn't give what was to come afterwards a single thought, not wanting to have to acknowledge the need to resume his attack on Voltron. The usually calm and calculating Lotor had turned nearly to space goo, all because of this silly human boy.

He thought this fondly, as he sat in his fighter once he'd caught up on all his duties and waited for his sweet voice to resound in his ears once more.

And waited.

_And waited._

But the Paladin was no where to be heard. 


	5. Garlic

The group was quiet as they watched the pair tell the origin of their relationship. Lotor was gazing affectionately over at Lance, still holding on to his hand. His eyed revealed the gears in his brain churning along, but at first it was unclear what had him so worked up that he’d stopped telling his part of the story.  
  
“What?” Lance finally followed all their eyes and met Lotor’s, his brow knit confusedly.  
  
He did not say anything, but after a few seconds, Lance knew what the look meant: it made him break out into a genuine grin, closing his eyes, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. Lotor huffed a small sigh, then smiled, too, cradling the back of Lance’s head in his hand as if the others were not even in the room. It was just the two of them, in the perfect, safe world they’d built with one another that—  
  
“Wait, wait, wait. _Wait._ You can’t just stop there!”  
  
“Yeah…,” Keith agreed, tearing his eyes away from the happy couple, feeling a bit of heat creeping up on his own cheeks. Seeing his teammate’s PDA up close and personal was more than a little uncomfortable.    
  
It seemed their romance had an affect on everyone in the room, but there was a clear divide between finding it cute and nearly repulsive. Allura looked like she had something to say, but was doing her best to keep her hands neatly folded in her lap, her mouth quivering as she fought to keep it shut tight.  
  
Lance pulled away from his loving embrace with a chuckle. “Yeah, sorry, sorry. Well, Hunk, you sorta know what happens next, don’t you?”  
  
Everyone’s eyes shot over to Hunk.  
  
“Oh… _that?”_ He blinked.  
  
Lance nodded.  
  
“Hunk, you…”  
  
He threw his hands up once it seemed all the attention was on him: “Hey! I didn’t know _who_ he was talking to! Pidge is just as guilty!”  
  
“Spit it out,” Shiro mumbled with a wave of his hand, feeling quite eager for answers.

* * *

 “I can’t go today. I don’t feel up to it…sorry,” Lance sheepishly told Shiro, who’d been trying to dispatch them off on another small recon mission.  
  
This hadn’t been the first time lately that Lance had outright refused going on a mission, but he’d been so unlike himself that Shiro couldn’t deny him. “Sure…take it easy and…,” he patted his shoulder, “…get some _rest,_ Lance.”  
  
He walked past him, putting on his helmet but stopping at Hunk’s side, who’d been watching from a small distance. Leaning down, he hovered near his ear in his ear: “Stay with him. He needs a friend right now.”  
  
Hunk’s eyes widened a bit but he nodded, jogging over to Lance as Shiro and the rest of the team left. “Lance, buddy…”  
  
“Yeah?” He didn’t lift up his head, scuffing his sneaker back and forth on the slick castle floors and listening to it squeak.  
  
“Hey, let’s go do something fun. Wanna try cooking? We can try to make a space taco. Or space burrito!”  
  
Lance shrugged. He hadn’t been the same since that night he’d heard that strange female voice on the other end of the transmission…and he hadn’t gone to talk to him since then, either. He wanted to, though: in fact, it’d been the only thing he’d been thinking about…but he was too afraid. Too afraid that everything that had been building up over the past few weeks would be crushed with a single answer, that the first person he’d really, honest-to-God _liked_ would already be taken.  
  
“…Calzone?”  
  
That caused him to break into a smile, hoisting himself right out of those dark thoughts. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

* * *

“Aw man, the tomato-ish type thingies are gone…” Hunk pulled up from having been crouched down to scout out the lower cupboards, “Coran must’ve eaten the resta them…”  
  
“No calzone, then… _rest in pizza,_ calzone,” Lance sighed.  
  
“Hmm,” Hunk eyed all the ingredients lined up in the cooling system, then glanced over at everything he’d pulled out from the cabinets.   
  
“Hey, we still have that sugary stuff that I forgot to put in the cookies,” Lance said, picking up the container of goo and shaking it a bit, just to watch it slosh around satisfyingly.  
  
“Do you want something sweet?” Hunk asked. Lance gave it some thought and put the jar back down.  
  
“Honestly…not really. I was kinda hoping for something salty…something garlicy? Maybe?”  
  
Hunk knew Lance loved anything with garlic. He also knew that garlic knots would probably cheer Lance up quicker than anything else he could possibly imagine, other than being able to go back home or see his family.  
  
_“I got it!”_ He finally cried, rolling up his sleeves. Lance jumped back, startled by the sudden outburst and bumping into the cupboard. He groaned as he reached back and gently fondled at his tailbone, which would probably be at least a little bruised from the small collision.  
  
“Dude, what’s up? What’d’ya got?! Scared the _heck_ outta me…”  
  
“We’re gonna make. _Garlic knots.”_  
  
Lance swore he felt his mouth salivate as Hunk continued on, with wide, excited eyes.  
  
“Hot. Salty. Garlicy. _Knots.”_  
  
“I’ve never tasted garlic here before, though…” He didn’t want to get his hopes up too much. Just the idea of it had lifted his spirits considerably, but it was probably a long-shot.  
  
“We just haven’t been adventurous enough! Are you ready?”  
  
He blinked. “Ready?” Lance had no idea what Hunk had in store, or how they were going to make garlic knots with alien ingredients.  
  
“We’re gonna taste test everything.”  
  
“Oh, it’s _on!”_ Lance broke into a wide grin. He hadn’t been eating much lately, and something about indulging alongside his best friend sounded absolutely fantastic. “Bring it!”  
  
“Help me in emptying out the fridge, then we’ll just…try _everything_ until we find something that tastes sorta like it! Lick it, smell it, taste it, whatever! We'll find that garlic!”

* * *

“Hunk?”  
  
“Yeah, buddy?”  
  
“I think…I found it.” He held up a brown, giant radish-looking type of vegetable.    
  
“What, really?” Hunk took it from him, sniffing it and then pulling away. _“Oh!”_  
  
“Yeah, it smells sorta strong, but if you take—”  
  
“Little shavings of it!”  
  
“Yeah! We could make a sauce with it. A butter-garlic sauce, then a lil’ seasoning on top?”  
  
“Perfect!”  
  
The two of them collaborated in the kitchen, working together to make the Earthen snack. Hunk worked on the dough, explaining to Lance how he could make bread without yeast, giving him little tips and advice as the opportunities arose. Lance listened happily and tried to take it all in, wanting to become a better chef. He’d witnessed first-hand the joy food could bring in dull times, and he definitely wanted to learn for himself…and perhaps even share his Earth customs with the Mystery Man, someday.  
  
When it came to actually forming the knots, Lance took over, instructing Hunk on how to roll the dough and how to tie them up beautifully. They then worked on the garlic glaze on the stovetop, and lastly, awaited the knots’ rising in the oven.  
  
Lance leaned up against the cupboard, careful not to bump against where he’d bruised himself earlier.  
  
“All my culinary training has culminated to this very moment, Lance: it took everything the two of us knew, but they’re gonna be _amazing._ I know it.” Hunk joined him with a sigh, watching the knots puff up through the little window on the oven.  
  
“Hope so.”  
  
“Hey, there been something on your mind lately? You’ve been sorta…like, Iunno, out of it?”  
  
Lance’s eyes narrowed, being yanked out of _‘Happy Cooking Land with Hunk’_ and back to reality. “Um…why?”  
  
“Don’t ask me, dude! I’m the one tryna figure _you_ out.”  
  
Blue eyes met brown, and his face was so darn earnest, like he cared so _much,_ Lance couldn’t deny him of the truth. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone. And I _mean_ it, Hunk.”  
  
“Dude, I’ve known you forever. I wouldn’t ever betray you, no matter what kinda messed up secret ya got.”  
  
Lance nodded, and Hunk nodded in agreement. It was settled: he’d tell him what was going on, but he’d keep it very vague. After all, there was still he, himself, didn’t even know, yet…like his name…or if he was single.  
  
“There’s someone on my mind,” he finally admitted, not realizing that he was smiling; but Hunk saw the way his face lit up, so quickly just at that brief mention, “Someone I like. Like, _a lot._ Like, unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. And I can’t stop thinking ‘bout them.”  
  
“Someone…on the ship?” Hunk blinked, never having seen Lance so…giddy like this. He’d been on the end of countless hours of Lance’s rants about girls ever since flight school, but never before had he seemed so strangely genuine when speaking on the subject.  
  
“No, no. They’re not on the ship. Sort of a...uh, well...an alien. Yeah.”  
  
“Where they from?”  
  
His bright smile faltered a bit. “I don’t…know,” he finally replied after a tick of dead silence.  
  
“Have I met them?”  
  
“No, I don’t…think so?”  
  
“What do they look like?”  
  
“Um…,” Couldn’t answer that one.  
  
“Do they have weird alien parts?” He wiggled his arms around and made a fake, elongated nose with his finger from the side of his face.  
  
“Fangs…I think.”  
  
“You _‘think?’_ Couldn’t you tell when you kissed them?”  
  
“ _We didn’t—!_ I didn’t…hey, what’s up with all the gender-neutral pronouns, anyway?”  
  
_“Lance,”_ Hunk deadpanned, his eyes saying, _‘You know I know’_ as they bored into Lance’s. The Blue Paladin sighed in defeat.  
  
“It’s a guy.”  
  
“Nice,” he scooted a bit closer, elbowing him with a big grin, “When do we get to meet ‘im?” He was genuinely excited for his best friend, finally finding someone he was actually head-over-heels for rather than going from person to person, always crushing and getting crushed in the process.  
  
“So…like, actually…I haven’t seen them,” scared of being thought of as absolutely insane, he quickly tacked on a tiny white lie, “…in awhile.”  
  
“Wha—well, we gotta make this happen! _We gotta make this happen, dude!_ What can I do? How can we getcha together?”  
  
“I dunno…but I’ll tell you when I figure it out, I guess.”

* * *

 “Aaaaannnd, then everyone got back and we ate the garlic knots,” Hunk finished his part of the story easily.  
  
“They were amazing,” Keith admitted fondly, but when he saw the slightly strange looks he was getting for being so nice, he continued, “I mean, even _Lance_ is good at some things. I guess.”  
  
“So…you _did_ know,” Allura confirmed, trying to keep her cool, but she couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed.  
  
“I didn’t know it was _Lotor,_ the son of the _Galra emperor_ Zarkan!”  
  
"He didn't know. I didn't know either." Lance pouted, feeling a little defensive. Hunk did absolutely nothing wrong, and he was grateful he’d kept his secret this whole time, even after he’d gotten _'kidnapped.'_  
  
The others quickly joined in, reassuring Hunk he’d done the right thing, but it lead to the next question: “So… _when_ did you find out it was Lotor?”  
  
Lance turned back to Lotor, who moved to encircle Lance in a strong arm, tucking him a bit closer to himself by the waist as he crossed his leg over the other to get more comfortable. He motioned his head towards Lance, signaling that he should be the one to continue on. He’d tell his bit after their current predicament in the tale had been resolved. The Paladin understood this wordless communication and nodded.  
  
“So, like, the next day…”

* * *

Lance slid into the seat of the Red Lion with baited breath. He had half a varga to go out on a test drive after days of not piloting. He’d get used to the controls, re-bond with his Lion (who thankfully greeted him back without any resistance), shoot a few targets, then head back and get the mission briefing. And _maybe_ try to talk to a certain someone…  
  
Once he’d launched safely into the air, he spoke out bravely: “You there?”  
  
Silence, then white noise…Lance thought his heart might burst out of his chest at that moment, when finally, the voice he’d been thinking about nonstop for the past week filled his ears.  
  
“I’m here, Lance.”  
  
He braked, and the Lion hovered mid-air, awaiting instruction from its pilot, who was holding his head in his hands. His heartbeat…even louder and harder…he thought he might _die,_ then and there. He had to ask, he had to know, or he really _would._  
  
“Do you have a girlfriend?” “I apologize that my comrade interrupted us—"  
  
The two spoke simultaneously, then both quickly closed their mouths, processing what the other had said.  
  
“Most certainly not.” “Comrade?”  
  
They did it again, but this time, Lance shut his mouth afterwards, unable to even speak. Wave after wave of relief splashed over him, and it felt so good he thought he might just let out a loud whoop and plunge head-first into whatever lay ahead, but he kept his hands off the controls, and instead sat on them so he wouldn’t be tempted to do anything dumb.  
  
The Prince cleared his throat, finding the situation as awkward as Lance had. He’d been going around thinking Lance had somehow been able to deduct his identity based on whatever he’d manage to hear before he could kill the transmission, and _that_ was why he was no longer speaking to him (in fact, he’d even wondered if their connection had been permanently severed), but it had been something like _that?_  
  
_‘So that is why he has been avoiding me…how easily the situation could have been remedied, you silly boy.’_  
  
“There is only one on my mind, and it most certainly is _not_ any of my comrades."  
   
“I need to meet you,” Lance poured out, unable to keep quiet any longer, physically shaking with excitement, “I want to meet you!”  
  
“I was thinking the same,” Lotor couldn’t hide the smile evident in his tone. To know the other was so eager made him feel like there was a gorgeous flower blossoming out from his chest, stretching its petals all across his body in easy, swift beats of his heart and enveloping him in warmth, so unlike anything he'd ever felt.  
  
The Paladin laughed, throwing his head back, feeling something similar to Lotor. This was the most content he’d felt since he’d come to space: this was the kind of feeling he’d always dreamed of, but never thought he'd actually _find._ “Oh, man! _Quiznak!_ I can’t—I can’t believe this is really _happening_ , dude!”

Lotor beamed, listening to his elated cheers and laughter; beautiful noises he'd surely never get enough of. He could not wait to hear them in person.  
  
“Lance. When we do meet…I promise I will tell you my name, whilst your hand is held safely in mine.” 


	6. Meeting

One would’ve expected the atmosphere of the castle to be calm and comfortable without any recent Galra attacks—but every quiet day lead to a more opposite effect. Everyone was on edge except for Lance, who was seemingly on top of the world every single day, after a nightlong of chatting with Lotor.  
  
A few weeks had gone by as they both awaited the perfect chance to meet up with one another. Finally, said opportunity arose when Coran had given Hunk the task to go to a nearby moon’s mall to trade for some spare ship parts, so that they could have some extras should anything major (which they were all preparing for) happen to the castle.  
  
Knowing his situation, Hunk used the excuse that Lance was better suited for bargaining with the Unilu and got Coran to allow him along on the mission…but then Keith wanted to get out of the castle and stretch his legs, and Shiro wanted to see a space mall, as he didn’t get to visit the previous one. Pidge had thankfully opted to stay back at the castle, as Coran warned them that traveling in such large groups could prove to be highly suspicious.  
  
“It’s just like at home! You know, those stores where they won’t let you in without taking away your backpack, just because you _look_ young?” Lance recalled with a frown.  
  
“Really? I’ve never had that happen to me.”  
  
The frown quickly morphed into a persistent pout once Keith began to challenge him: “Happens to me n’ Hunk all the time!”  
  
“Maybe _you_ just look suspicious.”  
  
“Who’s the one who got kicked outta school?!”  
  
“Guys. We’ll split up,” Hunk put his arms out to separate Keith and Lance, who looked like they wanted to rip each other’s heads off, “While me and Lance’ll haggle for the parts, Keith and Shiro can go explore. There’s nothin’ suspicious about going in groups of two. Coran, you stay in the ship, ready to pick us up as soon as we come out.”  
  
After telling Lotor the moon they’d be at and about when, Lance spent the next varga locked up in his room, making sure he looked his absolute best. He combed his hair, made sure his teeth were completely clean and sparkly, and trimmed his fingernails. Later examining himself in his reflection as everyone was boarding the travel ship, he couldn’t decide if he should go with or without his coat. Just as he was admiring and flexing his nearly non-existent pecs, Hunk dragged him away, making the decision for him as his coat was left on his bed.

* * *

Lance was not the only one worrying over his first-impression.

“I need…some _fashion advice,”_ Lotor admitted begrudgingly as he returned to his crew’s deck after the particularly exciting conversation with Lance, in which the human had hastily explained to him that it was finally time.  
  
Lotor didn’t have very long to throw something together. It would be foolish to show up in Galra armor—he did not want to start a scene, especially should Lance not be alone. People recognizing him as the Prince could be troublesome, as well. He had no one to turn to but his all-female crew, some of which he knew were luckily very much interested in all the latest space trends.  
  
Ezor immediately jumped up from her seat, hurrying over to Lotor with a big smile on her face. “Why?”  
  
Acxa’s curiosity was also piqued, but she stayed in the back, arms crossed and monitoring him from a distance.  
  
“I will be…,” he hesitated, then avoided Ezor’s twinkling eyes and cleared his throat, turning his head to the side, “…needing to stop by a Unilu Space Mall. I do not want to draw much attention to myself.”  
  
“Awww, that’s it? Why’re you acting so weird, then?” She tried to follow his gaze, sticking her face wherever he turned.  
  
“I’m not,” he replied a bit defensively, crossing his arms, turning his attention back directly towards her, trying to stare her down to get her to quit prying.  
  
“You _totally_ are hiding something!”  
  
“Ezor, don’t pry if he doesn’t wanna tell us,” Zethrid grumbled from her seat at the front of the ship, performing a quick maintenance to make sure everything was running smoothly as it should…not like there’d been much damage on it as of late. They hadn’t had any kind of interesting action in forever—only boring, diplomatic, world-conquering kind of things…which was never fun anyway, because Lotor insisted they keep it peaceful.  
  
“Is it a date?”  
  
Lotor’s cheeks flushed indigo, and suddenly it felt like all eyes were on him. The girls made embarrassing sounds of interest and surrounded him, and all at once, a bunch of questions were being fired at him.  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“When did you meet?”  
  
“What do they look like?”  
  
“Do we get to come along?”  
  
“What’s their rank?”  
  
“Tell us their name!”  
  
“Rate ‘em outta ten.”  
  
_“Enough!”_  
  
“Your cheeks are so dark! I can’t believe it, Prince Lotor’s _blushing!”_ Ezor exclaimed happily as Acxa chuckled. This was a rare sight, and they were all enjoying it to the fullest.  
  
“They are not,” he urged, reaching up to touch his own cheek, feeling how unusually warm the skin really was. He turned his face away in shame, attempting to hold his composure.  
  
“Okay, okay. _Guys,”_ Ezor put her hands on her hips, clearly ready to lead this mini-mission as she took charge, “We need to make sure he looks _amazing!”_  
  
Zethrid shrugged. “Where do we even start?”  
  
“Acxa, plug in the coordinates for the mall! We need to get there pronto!”  
  
The General looked to Lotor for confirmation, but he’d already turned his back on the group to further hide his embarrassment. He wasn’t arguing the order, so she went back to her control panel and did as instructed.  
  
“Once we get to the mall, we’ll have to divide and conqueror. Zethrid, you’ll find him pants. Acxa; shoes and accessories. I’ll find the top.”  
  
“Accessories…?” She blinked.  
  
“Yeah! A nice ring will do.”  
  
“Not a ring,” Lotor interrupted, remembering Lance briefly mentioning once that rings were very symbolic in his Earth culture, and that one shouldn’t be worn without meaning.  
  
“Huh? Not a ring? Then…some kind of bracelet…the extra flare will be highly appreciated! It’s the kind of thing that pulls a whole outfit together. And, Narti, you stay here in the cruiser with Prince Lotor and keep him company.”  
  
“But how are we supposedta know if it’ll all match if we’re all splittin’ up?”  
  
“Oh, you _will_ know. Because _I’ll_ tell you _exactly_ what you’re looking for! Now…,” she reached out her hand and a glowing white hair-tie fell into it out of thin-air, “Bun or braid?”  
  
“…What?” Lotor blinked as he got comfortable in his usual chair, watching everyone get to work.  
  
“Bun or braid! How do you want me to do your hair?”  
  
“What is wrong with my hair?” he questioned, reaching up to toy with his bangs, rubbing them between his bare finger tips and enjoying the silky texture.  
  
“It looks…sorta unruly. More ready for the battlefield than a date. You need to be presentable and show them your best!”  
  
“You’re pushin’ it,” Zethrid chuckled from her position. She glanced over at Acxa, who was usually quite obnoxious about everyone being overly respectful, even in playful situations such as these, but she was actually smiling this time.  
  
Lotor sighed, bowing his head, eyes falling shut. Never before had he dressed to impress anyone, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted Lance to have the best impression of him, especially with the news he’d be giving him. “Do as you think best. I am completely in your hands, Ezor.”  
  
“I _thought_ you’d say that!” She moved behind him, beginning to hum an upbeat tune as she ran her fingers through his hair before beginning to section it out meticulously.

* * *

Lotor had faced many intimidating things before, whether it be beasts in the gladiator ring or his own father…but nothing was like this. Anxiety had built up in his chest, making it feel like it was hard to breathe, even if he was just sitting on the edge of the fountain with the mall’s entrance in sight and simply waiting.  
  
He felt a little awkward in the clothes Ezor had dressed him up in—a well-fitting button-up with a suit jacket, pants that felt just a little too tight on his bum, and loafers without socks. It was all “tied together,” she had explained, “with a simple, but elegant bracelet” that was silver-toned and “brought out the accents of the buttons on the shirt and the tassels on the shoes.”  
  
Lotor hardly understood what she’d meant by all of that, so he just agreed to it. He was beginning to regret that now, worrying more and more that he’d end up just looking silly to Lance in these clothes he was not used to. He nervously ran his fingers over each bump of the side-braid resting heavily on his shoulder, finding the texture almost just as pleasurable as when his hair was hanging long. How much longer would he have to sit here? Waiting for Lance to show up was even more torturous than having been in exile.  
  
‘ _My looks should be the least of my concerns. Being here unarmed is a risk in itself…I do not think he’d attack, but one can never be too prepared for such a thing. That is why it is essential the others stay nearby…however…,’_ He looked over at his squad, who’d taken advantage of Lotor’s seemingly unlimited supply of GAC to buy themselves some new clothing and makeup, and were all chatting amongst themselves in the far corner of the mall’s second level, just barely in eyeshot of their leader. _‘While this almost humiliating, at least they seem to be having a bit of fun.’_  
  
He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, and crossed them the other way. It seemed no matter how he positioned himself, he still felt the same—on the verge of throwing up. Little did he know Lance was in a similar situation, except much worse.

* * *

“Lance, _what_ are you doing?!”  
  
After finally having arrived at the mall, he’d found him in the back of the cruiser, knelt over the toilet and and immediately had been assaulted with an all-too familiar smell.  
  
“I couldn’t—I couldn’t help it, dude!”  
  
“You seriously puked? You _seriously_ puked?”  
  
Lance took the handkerchief Hunk offered him and wiped off his mouth. “This is literally the worst. I’m gonna die.”  
  
“Buddy. You’re not gonna die. You have _me_ for a best friend,” he reached up and helped Lance to his feet, making sure nothing had gotten on his clothing, “and you know what I always carry?”  
  
Lance glowered, not in the mood for jokes or games. He’d just thrown up minutes before meeting his crush for the first time.  
  
“Minty flavored space goo!” He pulled a container out of his vest’s pocket and yanked it open, a sharp, herbal scent assaulting Lance’s nose almost immediately. “Couple bites of this and your breath’ll smell squeaky clean! It tastes great, too.”  
  
“…Thanks, Hunk.” He took the container from him and poured it all in to his mouth without hesitation. It burned, made his eyes water a little and his nose sting, but he swished it around his mouth a bit before swallowing it down. When he sighed, his throat singed with the pure freshness.  
  
“See? All good. Besides, better now than all over your boyfriend, right?”  
  
“Don’t even joke like that,” Lance plopped the empty container back into his hand and moved out of the bathroom, trudging along as they all said goodbye to Coran.  
  
“You be careful in there,” he warned them all as they exited one-by-one, “I see a Galra ship parked not too far from here.”  
  
“Everyone, on your toes,” Shiro warned everyone as he lead them inside.

* * *

Every time the entrance doors slid open, Lotor perked up. He didn’t really know what, or who to expect. They hadn’t even really had time to agree on how they would know it was one another: it was very poorly thought out, and he regretted not being as thorough in his planning as he usually so often was.  
  
Luckily, many of the mall’s visitors were Galran, or at least very recognizably not-human. But when a group of four very Earthen looking boys came through the doors, Lotor immediately rose to his feet, feeling his heart nearly beat right out of his chest.  
  
The first one he noticed was gruff, scarred, and seemed to be sporting an artificial—was that Galra tech?—arm: he was quickly out of the ruling, since he’d never heard Lance speak of such a thing.  
  
Next to him was a brooding boy with a pout that seemed to have been plastered on his face for a good few years. He quickly took notice of his hair, and felt a bit bothered by it’s lack of length and shortness: it was strangely in the middle, and somehow it was a bit unsettling to Lotor.  
  
Trotting alongside them were two boys, one with hands in his back jeans’ pockets and a very nervous, near sick expression on his face as blue eyes darted anxiously all around—  
  
That was him. It was Lance; it was _his Lance,_ there in actual, real, live flesh.    
  
His knees grew weak and he quickly found refuge on the opposite side of the fountain, positioning himself with his back to the group, his hand on his chest as if it could stop his heart from practically jumping out of it.  
  
_‘Get it together! You are acting absolutely asinine!’_ He scolded himself, but it didn’t help: in fact, it only made him even more antsy, and the only thing he had to distract himself was their conversation.  
  
A voice he did not recognize was the first to speak up, loudly and confidently. “Me and Lance’re gonna head over there, you guys have fun.”  
  
_‘Hunk,’_ Lotor confirmed to himself mentally with a small nod.  
  
“Wait, when are we going to meet back here?” The voice was too high-pitched to be the tallest human and it was not Lance’s, so it must’ve been the pouty boy. Was that _‘Keith?’_  
  
“One varga should be plentya time. ‘Kay?”  
  
“All right, good luck. Call us if you need anything.”  
  
There was a brief exchange of casual goodbyes, and then footsteps were moving both away and towards Lotor’s back. Some eventually faded away, and the others, which had gotten closer, stopped after several painfully long ticks, being replaced with hushed whispers.  
  
“Okay, I’ll go do the deal. Go get ‘em, Lance. I’m prouda ya.”  
  
“I’m gonna die, Hunk. I’m gonna _die.”_  
  
Lotor’s ears twitched, straining to hear Lance’s voice, which somehow put him at ease despite its frantic tone.  
  
“Don’t die _now!”_  
  
“Oh my god, _oh my god, I’m gonna die!”_  
  
“Shhhh! I’m leaving before you psyche yourself out anymore,” Hunk warned, taking a few steps back, before turning on his heel and running, leaving Lance without a choice but to just do it.  
  
The Paladin, usually so cool and collected, fidgeted around with his pockets uselessly, as if prolonging the inevitable. He switched from front, to back, then to front, then fixed the way his baseball tee hung on his slim frame, then finally decided on the left one being in front pocket and the right being in the back, but when he took a few steps forward he actually realized how uncomfortable it was so he paused and decided on removing both of them, leaving his hands awkwardly at his sides.  
  
“I shoulda worn my jacket…,” he mumbled to himself, wishing he could just zip it up and hide. He kept looking down at his hands, getting lost in how to pose himself to look cool, when he heard his name being called by that _oh-so-suave_ voice.


	7. Confession

No words could describe his beauty. He had some vague idea as to what a human looked like, but he’d never _imagined_ he'd be like this. His skin, his ears, his eyes…Lance was surely the most gorgeous being he’d ever seen. Lotor moved closer and closer, wanting to get a better look at him, and before he knew it, they bumped up against one another.  
  
Eyes widening slightly, he quickly took a step back, not wanting to startle the other, who was considerably smaller than he. Perhaps he was standing too close. Maybe he shouldn’t be standing at all. He sat down on the fountain’s rim, feeling thankful it was right there—his legs just might give out should he have not ended their misery.  
  
Lance seemed just as dazed, and took a seat next to him, their knees almost touching. Out of nerves, Lotor crossed his legs, rather than sitting with his legs spread as he usually would. He winced a bit—these damn pants were much too tight on his bum, no matter what Ezor said. How he wished he could he be in his armor, feeling confident and comfortable right about now…  
  
Lance bit his lip, playing with the rim of his baseball tee as he got settled. “H-hey.” His voice was shaking. He cleared his throat, wishing he knew what the other was thinking.

* * *

“Oh! He stood up!” The girls all ran to the railing, excitedly gazing down to the lower level to see who it was Lotor would greet. No one said a word as they watched the group of all-too familiar Paladins walk in, eventually splitting up, leaving Lotor to approach the Blue one.  
  
“No…,” Acxa mumbled, her eyes wide as she recalled exactly who that was—the one she’d briefly fought.    
  
“I don’t get it,” Ezor pouted, turning to her team, looking to each one for an explanation. “Is that who I think it is?”  
  
“The Paladins we fought at the base. That’s the Blue one with the gun.”  
  
“I knew it!” Zethrid explained, her fist in her palm. “But…why?”  
  
“You don’t think he’s luring them into a trap, do you?”  
  
“The way he was acting, there’s _no_ way!”  
  
The group tried to make sense of it amongst themselves and wordlessly stared at the odd exchange down below, hoping for answers that’d come sooner than later. The anticipation was eating away at them as much as it was Lotor and Lance.

* * *

“You’re much more beautiful than I ever could have imagined,” Lotor choked out, the words not coming as smoothly as he’d hoped. He was nervous like never before, his eventual confession on his mind. “Why were you so modest with your description?”  
  
It was hard for Lance to speak: there was too much chaos going on in his mind, question after question popping up before he could even hypothetically answer one. He didn’t know which to ask first, or what to say.  
  
His hair, his ears, his eyes, his body…the one he’d been talking to all this time was unparalleled: even the human celebrities he’d so entertained himself with back on Earth didn’t hold a candle to him...but there was one thing he needed to get out of the way.  
  
“Are you…Galra?”  
  
Lotor’s smile faded a bit, his brow tensing up. _“Half,”_ he quickly corrected him. While he’d grown up despising his other side, the one that was so seemingly “disappointing” to the rest of the Empire, in this case, he actually felt a bit grateful. Perhaps it’d give Lance some comfort.  
  
“That’s…awesome! Wait,” Lance looked around then leaned in a bit (not noticing Lotor’s cheeks darken), lowering his voice as he questioned in a loud whisper, “You’re not one of _them,_ right? _The Blade of Marmora?”_  
  
“I am not.”  
  
Lotor was slightly frustrated, more with himself and his inability to carry the conversation in the direction he’d prefer it to go in, than Lance himself. He really didn’t want to spend their time talking about the fact that he was actually the Paladin’s sworn enemy and that their races were at war with one another, but he allowed it only because Lance deserved any answer he so wished.  
  
“Sorry, I just…I’m thinking of so many things right now, and I _totally_ just forgot all my one-liners,” Lance admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared into the flowing water of the fountain to distract himself.  
  
That put Lotor at ease and he let out a chuckle, reaching over to take hold of Lance’s hand that had been draped over his leg, cradling it gently in his own. It made Lance give a silly grin, himself, and he cheeks went red. He couldn’t believe how giddy he was feeling: it almost seemed like a dream.  
  
“You look…honestly, you look just… _amazing,”_ Lance went on, “like, your _hair._ Can I…can I touch it?”  
  
“Go ahead.”  
  
Lance pulled his hand from the back of his sweaty neck and quickly wiped it off on his jeans with a small noise of disgust that caused the other to chuckle, before reaching out to run his fingers over the braid resting on his broad chest. “It’s so soft…? Like…? I really, really like it. What kinda shampoo do you use?”  
  
Not catching his question, too caught up in the feeling of the human’s fingers on him—Lance was _touching_ him—Lotor asked, “May I feel yours?”  
  
“Uh, sure, sure!” He pulled his fingers away, sitting on that hand to keep himself from doing anything too strange, and clutched on to Lotor’s with his other.    
  
Its texture was different, but still quite pleasing to the touch. It was more coarse but still slid around between his fingers. It was clear Lance took pride in his appearance and kept himself well-groomed: Lotor appreciated that. “Stunning.”  
  
Lance blushed harder at that, turning his head away. Why did he have to be so embarrassing?! No, the real question was why was Lance such a pitiful mess just because of a few compliments?  
  
Violet fingers trailed down from his hair to his round ears, caressing their back and tracing down to the lobe. Lance’s breath hitched, and to try and take all the attention off himself (something he never thought he’d be doing), he lifted his thigh up, freeing his hand and feeling at Lotor’s ear, which twitched in his hand, taking him by surprise.  
  
“Yours do not move,” Lotor noted quietly.  
  
“Uh…yeah. And yours do, I guess? Which is sorta…really _cute,_ actually. I…I mean that in a good way, too! You’re really…cute. Yeah…” He’d better shut up before he talked himself down an even bigger hole of shame.  
  
But Lotor loved it: seeming him come undone like this was something he could have never imagined, and to know it was all because of his touch, all because of his words, that Lance was becoming this filled Lotor was the confidence he needed to uncross his legs and scoot closer, closing the gap between them, their legs pressed up against one another’s.  
  
“I’m unsure of what words to use to describe you. I cannot seem to find any that are worthy.” Wide blue eyes were staring down at their legs, processing the sight and the feeling. Since he wasn’t saying anything—was he too embarrassed?—he went on, “Before any more words are exchanged between us, I believe there is something I owe you.”  
  
Lance tensed up, then, and he looked up, their eyes finally meeting. He didn’t say anything, and could barely hear him, his heartbeat so loud. This was it; he’d finally learn the one who’d turned his life upside down.  
  
Lotor didn’t want to say it. He’d been dreading it for the longest time, now, but he didn’t find it fair to selfishly continue on with this bliss without Lance getting what he deserved first. He sighed quietly, then reached into his back pocket, rustling around a bit before then cupping Lance’s hand in both of his. Lance could barely process the fact that something small and cool had been placed in his palm, much too distracted with how the half-Galra was leaning in closer yet.  
  
He took a deep breath before speaking slowly and carefully, looking directly into those pretty blue eyes of his: “I am Lotor; _Emperor,_ for the time being…of the Galra Empire.”  
  
_What?_  
  
He repeated his words in his head: Lotor… _Emperor?_ It almost didn’t make any sense. The words themselves had a connection, sure, but he couldn’t relate them to what was going on in front of his own eyes, this gorgeous man holding on to his hand—he couldn’t relate them to everything they’ve gone through, the one he’d been talking to, pouring out his heart to, confiding his every insecurity in.  
  
Seeing Lance’s expression gave him an unsettling pang in his chest, and his face hardened to a neutral expression accordingly, doing his best to fight the unease and continue on. “I apologize for having kept this from you. It was never my intention— _talking_ to you was never my intention, but the more I did, the more fond of you I became.”  
  
“I began to envision a Universe in which you were by my side, and once that thought entered my mind, I could not change how I felt. I would do anything to make it my reality. However…,” his eyes finally left Lance’s, and drifted down to their hands. He tightened his grip on the sweaty, tan little hand between his own, which had fallen slack.  
  
“I understand if you wish to never speak to me again. Regardless, I will leave the Paladins of Voltron alone, and do whatever is in my power to have my father’s troops do the same,” He swallowed hard, looking as though he was beginning to struggle to speak—which was quite out of character for the poised politician he was used to playing, “…If…this idea does not disturb you as I so fear it may, this is a Galran communication device you can use to contact me directly, at any time you wish.”  
  
He was met with a most hurtful silence, and he sighed, closing his eyes as to stop the harsh pricks his tear ducts were assaulting him with. This was much more difficult than he’d thought. “Lance. Thank you for being the first to show me love.”


	8. Discourse

Lance was more shocked than disturbed by the reveal.   
  
No matter how many times he kept telling himself that this gorgeous, supportive being that had made everything feel all right when he was at his lowest, was _Lotor,_ he couldn’t believe it.   
  
As he spoke to him, his voice was calm, but there was a slight shake that he could pick up on. Lance was never one for outstanding deduction, however, after a disembodied voice had been his only thing to rely on for months, it was easy for Lance to catch these slight nuances, and they lead him to believe he was telling the truth—he meant it when he said he’s sorry.   
  
It was when he reassured him that it was okay should he never talk to him again that Lance began to imagine the idea playing out, and the anxiety festering inside him only worsened. He didn’t want to stop talking to Lotor and he certainly didn’t want him to disappear out of his life. Without him he had just been a ball of pent-up frustration and insecurities. He listened to his stupid jokes, he enjoyed hearing his stories about all their adventures and about his family, about his life on Earth. Things that the others would normally find intolerable or boring, Lotor took great interest in. Lance appreciated that more than he probably knew how to express.   
  
He shut his eyes tight, trying to keep himself calm and focus on the warmth of his hands, and his soothing voice instead of imagining going back to not having anyone to share those things with.   
  
_‘I know it’s Lotor…but he can still do this. Still fix me when I feel broken, even now.’_  
  
“Lance. Thank you for being the first to show me love.”  
  
His heart stopped for a tick, then resumed at top-speed. Desperate to be somehow closer without garnering attention of passersby, he took his other hand and placed it on top of Lotor’s. Their blue eyes met once more. Lance hadn’t even noticed when his had opened, but he was seeing Lotor now and that was all it took for him to gather up his thoughts and finally put them into words.

* * *

“I’m afraid…,” Allura broke the silence that followed Lotor’s powerful words, and Lance pulled away from his embrace with wide eyes as everyone turned to her, “…it is difficult for me to believe _any_ of this.”  
  
Lance’s mouth fell open, but before he could say a word, she continued on, “Lotor is our _enemy._ He hacked into our systems and gathered information on our whereabouts, missions, and the personal matters, physical, _and_ emotional weaknesses of the entire Team Voltron. We’ve all been endangered, Lance. Do you not see the problem here? Your relationship clearly has advantages for him: you convince us to leave him be, and he goes off and does whatever he wants, and who knows _what_ exactly that all entails. I’m afraid he’s taken advantage of you…of your truly _good_ and open heart. There is just no way that a _Galran,_ a son of _Zarkon,_ would—“   
  
“Hold on, Allura,” Keith interrupted, turning to gaze her. He’d been quiet for the most part, eyes closed, and leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed as he listened to their tale. Allura already had some idea what he was going to say, but she let him continue regardless.   
  
“Trust me, if anyone seriously _hated_ Lotor, it was me. But you can’t judge him just because he’s Galra. Just look at him,” he threw a hand in Lotor’s direction, “He doesn’t even look like one."  
  
“Princess,” Lotor rose from his seat, and suddenly everyone was on alert, hands at their bayards. He ignored their reaction and went on smoothly, “While your concerns are valid given your position and our history, your accusations are completely incorrect. I’d ask of a bit more time to explain myself and my ideas for the future.”   
  
“I think we all need some time to discuss this privately and let it all sink in,” Shiro stood up from his seat, holding out his robotic hand to separate the two groups, trying to keep the peace between everyone. He could tell Keith was getting personally offended, Allura was getting defensive, and the last thing they needed was for Lotor to get angry.   
  
Lance held his head in his hands, trying to figure out what just went wrong: he’d thought they’d all been on board. They’d been so accepting up until now, and it was like the sick feeling from before now washed over him with twice the intent to kill.   
  
It almost seemed hopeless.   
  
“Allow them to rest in the spare barracks until we return,” Lotor ordered to the guards a bit harshly, a fire now burning in his eyes as his brows sharpened and his fangs bared. He was used to getting misjudged by everyone: he’d accepted it long ago, but Lance was not going to get hurt in the process because of it. Seeing him in such a pitiful state riled him up more than anything else could.   
  
“Uh, are we getting food? Please tell me we’re getting food,” Hunk whined as they were lead away by the two female Generals.  
  
“Provide rations!” Lotor called after them with a wave of his hand as he helped an unusually quiet Lance back up and to their private quarters, an arm wrapped snugly around his waist, keeping him close and protected.   
  
He didn’t know what felt worse: getting told that his love was a lie by his closest friends, or having to walk away from them again. It seemed Lotor was at his limit: he had been patient all this time, too. Lance could only imagine how frustrating it must be for him…and when they were finally alone, he let himself be completely embraced in his arms, hugging him tight. He wished they could stay like this forever.  
  
“The Princess has gone too far,” Lotor grumbled with his teeth clenched.   
  
“I’m sorry…”  
  
It took all Lotor’s patience to manage not to snap. Even the situation at hand was not more frustrating than Lance unable to see that he was absolutely perfect, pure—incapable of doing _anything_ wrong.  
  
But he had promised himself that he would say it—as many times as absolutely necessary, so he did.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. Lance…,” he pulled away from their embrace and took the Paladin’s chin in his hand, hoisting it up so that he’d face him properly, so that he’d witness the honesty in his eyes as he spoke. But Lance didn't need that. He could hear it all in his voice.  
  
“It is me. It has _always_ been me, but as flawed as I am, I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness. Whatever it is that you wish from this point forward, I will agree to. I can give up the throne. I can return to exile, free from this wretched kingdom. You may remain the hero you are meant to be, fighting my father as a perfect Paladin…of…”   
  
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of tears streaming down his lover’s face. In a panic, Lotor pulled away and let the other’s head droop back down. He was already feeling substantial torment from forcing out the words he really did not want to say, and it only got worse when he saw Lance cry.   
  
“Why…would you even say that? That’s not what I want. Obviously…”   
  
The Galran felt his throat closing in on itself, his insides doing a fumbling backflip; a most uncomfortable feeling. Oh, how this young man affected him…and how well he reminded him of how badly he’d just messed up.  
  
Lance threw his arms out to his sides as he steadily raised his voice, getting louder with each word, “Don’t play the martyr! You _know_ what I want! We’ve talked about it like, _every_ night! I want to be with you _and_ them…you don’t have to give up the throne, you can use your power to make everything _better!_ Voltron and the Galra can work _together!”_   
  
“It is what I wish with all my heart, Beloved,” He replied quickly, taking one of Lance’s outstretched hands and placed it on his own chest, near his own racing heart, “Your friends, however…they…”  
  
“They said they need time, right?! We’ll _give_ them time!” Lance choked on his tears and he stopped talking to wipe his nose with his free hand, which was running uncontrollably. He gave a sob at the idea of how unattractive he probably looked.  
  
“That we will. Let us sleep,” he urged, wishing nothing more than to just hold him close and comfort him until he fell asleep in his arms, but Lance pulled his hand away from his and Lotor blinked, feeling his heart sink even lower yet, despite not previously believing such a thing was even possible.   
  
“I don’t wanna go to bed. I want food.”   
  
“Then come. Let us find whatever you desire,” he replied without missing a beat.  
  
Lance wordlessly picked up his jacket and slipped it on, trying to keep himself composed and calm after his blow-up. He knew he was running away from his problems again…and abandoning his friends. He winced at the idea, but they had left him with no choice.   
  
He followed Lotor as they boarded his personal flier. The Prince had to argue a bit with one of his Generals, Acxa, the pretty Galra woman Lance'd fought with before, to allow them to go off on their own. After a hefty amount of persuasion, reassuring her that they would be _fine_ and that her most important duty right now was tending to the Paladins and making sure they were comfortable in their barracks, she allowed them to take off without her supervision.  
  
The human silently stared out the window as the stars whirred by. He didn’t know where they were going or what they’d be doing, but it felt good to escape everything: all the pain, all the frustration, all the hurt and confusion. _‘They act like I’m the one betraying them, but they’re betraying me!’_ he thought bitterly.  
  
“What’s on your mind?” Lotor asked, not leaving him wallow in the self-loathing for too long: the sour look on his face while he did was not suiting of him. He missed his bright smile, and would do anything to see it again about now.   
  
“I’m just…,” he sighed, stretching out his legs with a crack of his knees, and crossing his arms tighter to his chest, “…I didn’t think they’d be like this. I’m so…”  
  
“Disappointed?” Lance confirmed that assumption with a low grumble. Lotor glanced over as he piloted, reaching over to pat whatever he could reach of Lance; in this case, his thigh. “Seeing you like this pains me so,” he told him honestly, trying to keep his voice level to try and calm his lover.   
  
“We didn’t even get to tell them everything…”  
  
“We cannot give so much information all at once. They need time to process it. Humans take comfort in eating, correct?”  
  
“Yeah…” His stomach growled at the mention of food. God, he wanted food. Fries, burgers, pizza, _garlic knots..._  
  
“Then it will be much easier to discuss the issue at hand once everyone has had their fill. You included.”   
  
“Yeah, I guess,” Lance sighed, thinking, _‘Me included. I just wish we were eating Hunk’s food. He always knew how to bring everyone together with a kick-butt meal…’_  
  
The ship was quiet, the two of them deep in thought, replaying the day’s hectic events.   
  
“I didn’t even get to tell 'em what I told you after all that,” Lance mused, after he’d gone over everything else they’d told them thus far in his mind.  
  
Lotor's face softened considerably at the memory. He put the flier on auto-pilot once the coordinates were locked into place and made his way to kneel next to Lance’s seat, taking the human’s hands in his, looking up at him with nothing but admiration and happiness. “Would you remind me?”   
  
There it was: the smile Lotor had been hoping for all this time. Just seeing it made all this discourse worth it. _“Pfft_ … _you know!_ I know you know!”  
  
“I want to hear you say it again.”   
  
"Embarrassing..."

His cheeks went red but he didn’t look away this time. There was nothing to hide from anymore: Lotor was free to see anything and everything he wanted to see, as he’d given Lance just as equal opportunity to gaze deep into his heart without fear. That bond was something not even that Paladins could break with Voltron’s blade.   
  
“I said...'No matter who or what you are, _Lotor..._ nothing changed for me.' And then I said...,'You're still like my entire Universe.'"  
  
Lotor rose and bent over Lance’s chair, a hand on each arm rest, his hair draping around them as he pressed his lips directly on Lance’s, which quickly opened up and accepted him until he nearly ran out of breath.   
  
“You _are_ my Universe, Beloved,” the Emperor whispered against his lips before diving back in. 


	9. Sabbatical

“So… _this_ …is the ration?”  
  
Hunk was not impressed with the purple goo slapped on a plate in front of him. They were all sitting on the ground in a circle, and had each been given a plate…however, the goo not only looked, but smelled, a lot less appetizing than they’d all hoped the rations would be on what they assumed to be a Prince’s royal ship.  
  
“You know what Coran says…,” Pidge sighed.  
  
“If it smells bad, it’s healthy.” Keith finished her sentence and took a bite, scrunching up his nose shortly after. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken such a large one.  
  
“Be grateful the Emperor is so kind to provide anything at all for you thieves.” Acxa walked in through the door, her arms crossed. She clearly was not happy, even as Ezor skipped over to her to find out what the latest scoop was.  
  
“He left with him,” she told her with a frown.  
  
“Wait, what?” Shiro put down his spork. The others fell silent, as well.  
  
She glared in his direction. “None of your concern, Paladin.”  
  
A quick glance around the circle and they all knew they were thinking the same: “It sorta _is_ our concern, since, y’know…Lance’s one of us?” Hunk blinked, saying what was on everyone else’s mind.  
  
“We should tell them things, too, Acxa! Remember, we’re supposed to all be friends now?” Ezor rocked back and forth on her heels, happy at the idea of having so many interesting, new buddies. Lance’s brain was incredibly fun to pick, and now she had a whole group of humans—and an Altean—to chat with. In her world, nothing could ever be boring again with all of them around!  
  
Acxa gave her a look: she wasn’t exactly fond of Lotor’s fantasy world that he’d been working so hard to arrange with all these strange, and seemingly reluctant individuals. The idea of getting on the good side of the Paladins and the bad side of the Empire was not too appealing…however, she’d already promised Lotor that she would stay by him no matter what. She owed him that, at least.  
  
With a heavy sigh, she sat down on one of the beds. Lotor had given her no choice: this is where he wanted her to be, answering their silly questions and appeasing their boring muses. “Fine. What do you want to know?”  
  
“Where did they take Lance?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” Keith was a bit exasperated, pushing his plate of goo away from himself. Allura hadn’t even touched her spork. “What if they never come back?!”  
  
“You guys have a very low idea of Prince Lotor, don’tcha?” Ezor plopped down next to Acxa, the bed bouncing a bit. “I guess it’s fair, you don’t know him like we do.”  
  
“What she is trying to say is: he would never abandon _us,”_ the blue-haired Galra motioned to herself and Ezor, who nodded.

The private flier landed a half a varga later and Lotor glanced over at Lance, who was still absently staring out the window, taking in their new surroundings.

* * *

“Beloved,” he called out softly, reaching for him. Lance couldn’t deny ever deny him, so he finally turned in his direction and took his hand, using it as an anchor to pull up his body, which still seemed heavy with sadness. He wasn’t as stable as he thought he’d be and fell forward into Lotor’s arms, which gladly encircled him in another warm embrace.  
  
Lance closed his tired eyes, stinging from the tears that were threatening to force their way out once again, and clung to Lotor’s back with all his might. It felt amazing to be cradled against him like this, and he thought he could stay there forever, protected from all forms of judgement and complicated relationships with friends. Eternity could have passed and Lance would’ve had no idea. “Lotor…”  
  
“We’re here,” he told him, ignoring the way his heart clenched with excitement when Lance called his name; a beautiful sound he was not yet used to hearing. It felt way too _good_ on his ears. He moved one hand to the small of his back, the other up to his now darkening cheek, and kissed him.  
  
Despite his bravado, Lance’d actually never been with anyone before—which was part of why he had always been so eager. He’d always wanted to touch someone, to hug someone just like this, to kiss them…and Lotor had been his first _everything,_ and despite how many times they had kissed, every time felt like the first time all over again, like fireworks or something crazy going off between their lips. His loud heartbeat were the persistent but unpredictable explosions, with the multicolor bursts going off behind his eyelids whenever their tongues touched. He shuddered, and Lotor held him closer yet, careful not to nip him with his fangs as their position shifted just so.  
  
Eventually the heat died down and they returned to just hugging each other, Lance slowly rocking back and forth in his arms like a nervous high schooler at his first dance.

Neither wanted to be the first to let go, but Lance was the one who could finally manage. He let out a sigh, realizing how cold he was without being against the other, and went to zip up his jacket accordingly, but Lotor placed his hand on his to stop him.

* * *

“There’s just so many questions,” Pidge leaned back on her palms, having just finished up her rations, “like, why was Lotor attacking us in the first place if he wasn’t a bad guy?”  
  
“He simply wanted to know what he was up against. You must understand he does not follow the Empire’s agenda; he has his own. His actions may seem random, but they’re actually quite calculated and work towards achieving a much larger goal.”  
  
“Then how does Lance fit into his agenda?”  
  
“We were shocked, too!” Ezor piped up. “But they say love happens in ‘mysterious’ ways, right?”  
  
“He does not fit,” Acxa continued after Ezor, “we have not acted on meaningful orders in months. All we do is hide in the shadows and avoid the attention of the Empire. Prince Lotor has forgotten all about his plans…and it’s beginning to put us all in danger.”  
  
“How so?” Shiro asked, curiosity overtaking him. It was quite interesting to hear the story from yet another perspective, one that wasn’t so very love-struck.  
  
“Once the Emperor finds out that Lance has come willingly—”  
  
“He’s under the impression that he has not?”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
“Lotor’s…lying to his father?”  
  
“Don’t blame ‘im. The guy’s a total creep. I wouldn’t wanna tell him what I’m up to, either,” Hunk muttered.  
  
“—it will surely cause some unpredictable problems to arise.”  
  
“But that’s what Prince Lotor chose! So we’re going along with it. You guys are a parta it too, now: the fight against evil Daddy Zarkon! So c’mon! Lighten up! Smile! We gotta make the best of it.”  
  
“What makes you follow him so blindly? If it was a clear path to victory, I’d understand, but…”  
  
“I was thinking the same thing,” Pidge chimed in with Shiro, looking peculiarly over at Ezor.  
  
“He saved each of us. We all owe him our lives,” Acxa’s quiet nod put merit to her words—she must not actually be exaggerating, “This is the least we can do for him!”

* * *

"Before we exit…I believe it best—should you be willing—if you would wear a uniform of mine.”  
  
Lance watched him with wide-eyed curiosity as he moved to a back drawer and opened it up after entering a brief passcode.  
  
“What’s the password?” he asked, peeping over his shoulder as the drawer revealed a full-set of armor similar to what Lotor and all his generals wore.  
  
“It matters not. Would you like to wear this? I believe it would be a lot less conspicuous. People will not be so fast to target you, and…,” his voice drifted off and it was like he was deep in thought—either that, or he was feigning it, and too embarrassed to continue with what he had begun saying.  
  
“What? _What!_ Tell me!”  
  
“…it will show everyone that you are mine.”  
  
No wonder he had been so shy about saying something like that: Lance was now a flustered, blushing ball of embarrassment himself, as he stripped and stepped into the new armor, which seemed to conform to his body flawlessly. It was lighter-weight and more comfortable than the Paladin armor, for sure. He flexed his joints—they all seemed to move somehow easier in the strange Galran materials, too.  
  
“Feel all right?”  
  
“Yeah! Feels great, dude. Does it look okay?”    
  
“Most certainly. You’re quite beautiful in those colors.”  
  
“So are you,” Lance huffed, trying to make the other as embarrassed as he was, and was about to push even further when his stomach gave out a very noisy, prolonged moan.  
  
“We best get going.”  
  
“Where are we, anyway?”  
  
The two of them climbed out of the ship, Lotor holding Lance’s hand and helping him down the steps, despite the other claiming it wasn’t necessary—though he actually really liked the extra attention and they both knew it.  
  
“It’s a space pub.”  
  
“Space hub?”  
  
_“Pub._ It is the first place I thought of that features more… _exotic_ food choices. Should they not have what you are looking for, we will move on to another.”  
  
Lotor was literally going to the ends of the Universe to find him a burger. The thought alone was enough to make Lance feel like just bursting out with loud, unnecessary sounds of happiness, which, admittedly, he knew Lotor wouldn’t mind, but would indeed prove to humiliate himself further, so he held back as they made their way inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: There was fan-art drawn for this!! https://annabellebrownrp.tumblr.com/post/170986989915/some-lance-drawings-cant-wait-till-season-5
> 
> Thank you so much, annabellebrownrp!!! 
> 
>  
> 
> Very brief set-up chapter. Next chapter will be longer & include food, I promise!


	10. Burger

Aliens of all kinds populated the scattered tables. The pub reminded him much of the one they’d visited in the Karthulian System.   
  
Lance opened his mouth, about to tell Lotor his entire recollection of how Coran had made a stupid bet that jeopardized his life with the Mu at the pub and how they had to get a Yalexian Pearl to save him, when suddenly, all the patrons were rising to their feet, throwing their arms across their chest. Lance blinked, then grinned when he came to the realization.  
  
“Aw, hey, guys. I know we’re great, but no autographs ’til after we get some grub.”   
  
“Prince Lotor! Vrepit sa!”  
  
“Vrepit sa.”  
  
 _“Vrepit sa, vrepit sa, vrepit sa—"_  
  
Soon the entire pub was muttering the phrase until Lotor held up his hands, and everyone fell silent in a tick.   
  
“Enough.”  
  
But one patron had gone so far as to kneel in front of the two of them, mumbling some kind of thanks for the (firm) kindness Lotor had shown his people.   
  
As a Paladin of Voltron, Lance had been used to getting recognized. They’d been doing a lot of diplomatic work recently, and he was always on the top of the list to be sent out to newly liberated planets. He’d gained some fame and a lot more appreciation from Voltron fans, and grown used to getting his ego stroked now and then. However, he wasn’t so used to someone else stealing the limelight right away from him, though he knew it hadn’t been at all intentional.   
  
It made his heart sink a little and he felt a bit dumb, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly down at the strange creature (of a race he’d never seen before) on his knees for Lotor, rather than himself.   
  
“Please, rise. We are equals on common ground. That is what it means to be in an alliance with the Galra Empire.” He held out his hand, and the alien’s eyes widened, before taking hold of it and scrambling up to its five feet. 

* * *

"You're not gonna tell us how he saved you?"

"That'll take _way_ too long! Besides, you guys are _way_ more interesting to listen to," Ezor climbed up on to a bunk bed, swinging her legs excitedly as she got settled, able to see the room at large better from her perch.

“I have a question.”  
  
Everyone looked to Keith. Hunk had began nervously bringing the goo up to his mouth, sniffing at it before nibbling, urging the others to do the same.  
  
“I know you. You’re the Galra from the Weblum.”   
  
Acxa turned away, her face still very void of emotion.   
  
“What happened to you after that? How did you find your way here?” He didn’t even sound accusatory; he was genuinely curious for answers, but Acxa seemed to have another agenda.  
  
“Zethrid will take my place,” Acxa muttered to Ezor with clenched teeth, and stepped out of the room hastily.   
  
Everyone looked confusedly to one another, Ezor included. "What's _her_ problem?" 

Keith frowned, crossing his arms tighter to his chest. Just as he thought: bringing up the Weblum was some kind of weakness for her. He'd have to remember that.

"Forget about it. We have bigger things to worry about."

* * *

“A lotta people know you here, huh?”   
  
“I suppose so.” Lotor didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention as much as Lance knew he would certainly be, should they be in each other’s shoes.   
  
Lance raised a questioning brow as they got settled at their table, one in the back corner. Despite their efforts to tuck themselves away, most were still staring eagerly at them, and whispering, no doubt, about them.   
  
“When the chef comes over, detail what you are looking for. Should he not be able to provide it, we will move on to the next destination.”   
  
“Mmkay. But aren’t you gonna do autographs or somethin' while we wait?”  
  
“Autographs…?”  
  
“Y’know, like, sign things for people?”  
  
“Why would I do such a thing?”  
  
“Uh, it’s fun to be a celebrity, and it’s exciting for your fans.”  
  
“I do not think ‘fans’ is the best way to describe them.”   
  
“They totally are! They’re your fans: people who admire you, and look up to you, and want to be you!”  
  
The Prince gave another sigh, finding the attention more troublesome than ‘fun.’ 

* * *

“Okay, so…,” the group was sprawled out across the floor, looking exhausted after having all finished their rations, “…any ideas?”   
  
“We’re sitting ducks here.”  
  
“Not much we can do ’til Lance comes back to talk more.”   
  
“Okay, but, we have to actually _talk._ Not just accuse one another."   
  
“Allura’s concerns were— _are_ legitimate. Look,” Pidge sat up cross-legged, straightening up as to be taken a little more seriously, “it’s clear Lance isn’t gonna leave. No matter _how_ he ended up here, or _why_ he wants to stay, that fact isn’t changing. So from there…”  
  
“We need to find out what Lotor’s planning.”   
  
“Right.” She nodded. “But we also need to earn back Lance’s trust.”   
  
“If he really felt so betrayed by us, why didn’t he just say it?”  
  
“He tried. We all failed as teammates when we didn’t listen: it’s all of our faults.”  
  
The room went quiet, and they hung their heads as they thought of all the times where Lance had expressed he was fed up with their teasing, and they’d continue to crack jokes regardless. Should they had been a little more understanding, perhaps the situation would be different.   
  
Able to read the sour mood, Shiro rose to his feet. “There’s no use dwelling on the past. Like Pidge said: we’re here now, and we need to adapt to the new circumstances. When Lance gets back, we’ll play by _their_ rules.”  
  
“Haven’t we been?”   
  
“Well, yes, but—”  
  
“We don’t have time for this! Coran’s back at the castle, most likely worried sick about us…and we’re completely defenseless! We need Lance to form Voltron!”   
  
“Allura. The lions are fueled on trust and friendship. I don’t even know if we could form Voltron with Lance thinking of us like he does right now!”   
  
“Certainly! That’s why we must leave, and return with reinforcements and a new plan.“  
  
“We’re not leaving. If we do, we really might _not_ see Lance ever again.” 

* * *

“So, uh…I’m lookin’ for a burger.”   
  
“A what?” The chef raised his very furry brow.  
  
“A burger. It’s like, um…hm. It’s like…meat? Salty meat with bread on top and on bottom.” He used his hands to emulate a sandwich. “And there’s melted cheese, and vegetables, like shredded lettuce, and tomato, which is a round, red thing…well, they can be other colors too, but they're mostly red.”   
  
“I can do it!” The alien replied eagerly, regardless of not understanding half of what the human had just described.   
  
“Dude, awesome! I haven’t had a burger in…well, actually, I dunno how long it’s been…”  
  
“I will do my very best. Vrepit sa!” He gave a salute before rushing back to the kitchen. Lance turned to Lotor with a grin. Lotor returned the smile, glad to finally see Lance so hyped up.  
  
“You’re so famous. Everyone's doing that 'Vrepit sa' thing. I mean, I guess it makes sense, you're _you,_ but…”  
  
“There are some who are clearly not so pleased with my presence,” he reminded Lance, nodding towards some tables across the room, his smile fading. Lance followed his eyes and saw a group of Galra men, probably soldiers given their armor, all glaring in their direction as they took sips from their cups and muttered amongst each other in their native tongue.   
  
“Who’re they?”  
  
“I do not know.”   
  
“Then it doesn’t matter, right?”   
  
_“How could ‘e allow sucha strange-lookin’ creature ta infiltrate our ranks?!”_  
  
“I wish it did not. Should a Galra dislike me, it is because they are loyal to my father and unwilling to accept change to the Empire. As long as that kind stick to their stubborn single-mindedness, we will never achieve a peaceful reign.”   
  
_“Look at it’s ears!”_  
  
 _“It’s eyes…”_  
  
The human frowned, holding his chin in his palm, glaring towards the soldiers. “What’re they sayin’?”   
  
Ears twitched, straining to listen in to their distant (and rather distasteful) conversation. He was silent, but when his brow furrowed, Lance could tell it was nothing good. Lotor sighed and turned his head away, reaching to toy with his cowlick between two fingers. “Racist remarks.”   
  
_“The color of it’s skin!”_  
  
“Tell me,” he demanded.  
  
 _“Not even a bit of Galra.”_  
  
 _“Wha’d’you expect from a half-breed? Prolly makes ‘im feel better ‘bout ‘imself.”_  
  
 _“That’s fer sure.”_   
  
“As I said: single-minded, stubborn fools. They cannot comprehend building relations with other races, too set in their ways. Galra like that should be eliminated.” He was holding back; he really did want to kill them, and didn’t even care if they knew it. “They may approach us. Please avoid contact and let me handle the situation, should anything arise.”  
  
“Hey,” Lance frowned, “No. We’re _partners_ now. We do stuff together.”  
  
 _“Hanging around the weak to make himself appear stronger: that’s the kind of soldier we have leading our Empire?”_   
  
_“And I thought all those half-breeds were bad.”_  
  
 _“If it was up ta me, races like that should jus’ be clean wiped out.”_  
  
 _“It’d make a decent pet. Its looks aren’t fit for breeding, but certainly not too appalling to keep around.”_   
  
That provocation was all it took for Lotor to push up from the table, striding easily over to their table, teeth clenched.   
  
Lance blinked, then scrambled up to follow, despite Lotor having told him to stay back: there was no way he’d leave his side now that he’d sacrificed so much to earn that spot!   
  
“Greetings, soldiers.”  
  
They all hastily saluted, as if they hadn’t just been trash-talking him from across the room.   
  
“What’s that little thing with you?” one asked curiously.   
  
“Who you callin’ _‘little’?”_ Lance put his hands on his hips, feeling quite insulted. Should he had said ‘cute,’ that’d be totally different, but ‘little?’   
  
One of the Galra stood from his seat with a grunt, chair clambering to the ground. He towered over both Lance and Lotor. Admittedly, it was intimidating, but Lance had taken down things way bigger than him before, so he stood his ground, pout still very prominent on his face.   
  
The Galra rose his hand, dragging it from the top of the head, to over Lance’s: it was a good four feet or so…  
  
“Little,” he repeated, as if the visual representation was not enough.   
  
“Oh, _trust me,_ I’m _anything_ but little,” Lance scowled, “I’ve taken down robeasts ten times your size!”   
  
“Lance,” Lotor warned, tightening the grip around his waist. He certainly didn’t want to start a scene, especially involving Lance.   
  
“What’re you on about?”   
  
He knew he couldn’t bring up his status as a Paladin: the story they had to keep to was that Lotor had effectively convinced Lance to “switch sides,” turning his back on his ex-teammates, and join the Galra in fighting against Voltron. It was definitely a stretch that wouldn’t last much longer, but it had seemed to keep Zarkon and his men out of their hair for the past few weeks while they prepared for the bigger plan at large.   
  
Lotor took over the conversation as smoothly as he could before Lance caused any more unnecessary tension. “Do you question the soldiers I deem worthy to have at my side?”   
  
The Galra men looked at one another. One shook his head, and the other two quickly followed suit. “O-Of course not!”   
  
“Wonderful. It’d be quite troublesome should I have to show you your place, in a nice place like this.”   
  
The largest one who hadn’t shook his head rose to his feet. “‘M sorry. Where’s this _‘soldier?’”_  
  
“I’m right here,” Lance glared.  
  
“All’s I see’sa lil’ lap pet. No soldier.”   
  
Lotor had pushed Lance back to safety and lunged at the Galra. In a blink, he was pinned against the table, scowling, then moaning as Lotor kneed him between his legs and he sunk to the ground in a crippled pile.   
  
The pub fell silent, then the patrons began to chant. Sure, fights were common: but certainly not ones featuring royalty.   
  
With an angry shout, the others drew the blades from their belts and went in for the kill, but the whole thing was over much too fast to even garner much hype. The whole group’d been no challenge for an unarmed Lotor, and were now all on the floor, twitching and groaning in pain, wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness.  
  
Everyone cheered, and Lotor straightened his gloves, breathing just a little faster than usual and glancing over at Lance to check if he was all right. 

* * *

_“Holy. Crow.”_   
  
Lotor blinked; he wasn’t sure if that kind of reaction to the ‘burger’ was good or bad. And were those tears in Lance’s eyes? Should that chef have messed this up, he would give him an _earful_ before leaving and—  
  
“This…the white goo tastes like _cheese_ …it’s so soft and creamy, and the bun is just, like, _perfectly_ grilled on the bottoms, but _so_ fluffy on the top! There’s the most amazing crunch from… _whatever that shredded blue stuff is,_ and then…that _meat!_ What kind of meat is this?!”  
  
“I believe it’s Palmagoren meat.”   
  
“It tastes just like a burger! Lotor, you have to try this!” He wiped the stray tears from his eyes with his spare hand and shoved the burger, oozing an unhealthy amount of the gooey 'cheese,' at Lotor’s face. The other shook his head, holding a hand up.  
  
“It’s for you.”  
  
“You gotta try it!” Lance shoved it against his lips, pressing it in when he opened his mouth to protest.   
  
He watched his reaction eagerly, grinning when he saw his eyes glimmer, knowing even an alien would be able to tell how tasty it was.   
  
It _was_ creamy and rich and— _wait_ —that little spark on his taste buds…was that the ‘salt’ Lance had told him about?   
  
He now understood why he’d spoken so fondly about Earth’s food. Getting indescribable pleasure simply from eating was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Cooking, which had always been more of a ‘science’ than an ‘art,’ to Lotor, suddenly flew straight to the forefront of his priority list.   
  
If this pleasing sensation was what the young man gushed about so often, he wanted him to eat all the time: to see his face light up like this, to see him laugh and exclaim animatedly and try describing the food with both admirable fever and appreciation…it was worth _any_ price.   
  
_‘Something must be done. I must provide this for Lance whenever he so desires.’_ He was quickly searching for a solution—some way to get a chef and ingredients like this on the ship, but Lance interrupted his thoughts.  
  
“Isn’t it _so_ good?”   
  
“This ‘burger’ is ‘salty,’ is it not?”  
  
“Yeah! Exactly!”  
  
“I understand now.”  
  
 _“Right?!”_   
  
He carefully took the burger from his hand, careful not to squeeze too hard should all the cheese gush out the open sides, and guided it back to its rightful mouth. “Eat up, Beloved. I want you to enjoy this.”   
  
Lotor blinked in confusion when Lance flushed.

_'What’s he so embarrassed over?’_

Lance had always thought about doing this kind of thing since he'd seen _Lady and the Tramp_ as a kid _,_ but never did he imagine it'd be like _this_...so much _better_ than his naïve pre-Voltron mind could've ever came up with, even in his craziest dreams surrounding pretty aliens beaming him up from his backyard (which he noted, he had to tell Lotor about thoroughly some day. It'd be amusing for the both of them, he was sure.)   
  
Not saying a word, he opened his mouth quite willingly and accepted the burger in all its greasy greatness.  
  
That heaven in a bun hadn’t lasted too long, quickly being devoured with all the assistance of Lotor’s hand doing most of the work keeping it held together for each bite, but Lance was so impressed with it afterwards, he’d asked the chef what else they offered at the pub. Upon discovering Lance was still hungry, the Prince ordered one of everything, wanting him to have his choice of whatever he so desired.   
  
This lead to Lance stuffing himself silly of things he’d never even heard of (some were great, some regrettably not so great), and then sprawling out over the tabletop of messy dishes. Lotor had watched the entire display with a warm heart, prideful that he’d been able to make the other so joyful by bringing him here. Now he just needed to figure out how they could do this more easily in the future. Cooking never was his forte, but maybe the others may have hidden talents.  
  
 _‘Acxa, perhaps? She is quite well-rounded.’_ As he mused further on the idea, Lance stumbled up to his feet, feeling a little dizzy and uncomfortable with how tight his uniform had gotten around his midsection. Regardless, he was more content and at ease than he’d been in months.   
  
“Mmkay…let’s go home, Babe.”   
  
Lotor’s eyes widened a bit at what he assumed was a pet name that he’d never heard before. It had fell so naturally off Lance’s lips…while unsure of what exactly it meant, it sounded _good,_ and he decided he rather liked it.   
  
With a smile, he laid a considerable amount of GAC on the table, sure to cover their large order, took hold of Lance’s hand, and guided him out of the pub, stepping over the still-unconscious bodies of those who’d dare speak any ill of his Beloved.


	11. Talking

“Oh, man…I’m…yeah. I can’t even walk, I’m pretty full, Dud— _aAAH!”_ Suddenly his feet left the ground and his body was being hoisted up into the air. He didn’t fully comprehend the action until he was snug in Lotor’s arms. He smiled after the initial shock wore off and he got a grasp of what was happening, wrapping his arms around his neck, enjoying how his long, pretty hair felt sliding against his hands as Lotor quietly brought him back to the ship.  
  
Even after he’d accepted his role as the Blue Paladin, Lance hadn’t thought things were turn out like this. He kept thinking, with every planet they visited, that maybe he’d find ‘the one’ there, and once he would, _he’d_ be the hero who’d pick them up in his arms and carry them back to his ship.  
  
It felt silly, now, looking back on it; specific roles like that, characters like ‘heroes’ with all their tired stereotypes were no good. None of that silly stuff mattered, as long as things felt like this, Lance thought as he sighed happily and cuddled into Lotor’s armored chest.  
  
With a deep inhale, he took in his scent, which seemed to mostly radiate from his hair. The aroma was so strong, almost like when opening a new bottle of cologne (except he smelled nothing like cologne—it was a totally unique smell that Lance couldn’t even begin to describe).  
  
It comforted him. This smell was the closet thing Lance could call 'home'—a scent that put him at ease and made him feel like everything was okay even when it was not. Something about all of this, though unexpected and non-conforming to all of the fairy tale dreams he’d had up until now, felt so ridiculously _right_ that he almost forgot the both of them were running away from very important people that they’d have to, at some point, confront.  
  
“What’re we gonna to tell them?” he asked as Lotor climbed on to the ship, carefully setting Lance down in his seat.  
  
Lotor was silent as he took his own seat and crossed his legs, resting his elbow on the armrest, and his chin on the back of his hand, deep in thought. After a few ticks, he spoke up. “We will propose my plan.”  
  
“If they don’t agree, then they’ll know it all and—and if they try to get in our way, it could all…—“  
  
_‘Be ruined,’_ he wanted to say. But he didn’t have to.  
  
“But you trust them.”  
  
Lance looked down, fidgeting in his seat. He wanted to put faith in his team, but given how they’d been acting since they’d found him with Lotor, he wasn’t so sure anymore. It was the first time he doubted not just himself, but his teammates as well, and no matter how dreadful the feeling was, he couldn’t shake it. They hadn’t given him a reason to yet.  
  
“Please don’t look so doubtful.”  
  
“So…”  
  
“Lance.” He gazed across the aisle, directly into his pretty blue eyes. Lance met them when his name was called, still looking a bit apprehensive. He didn’t realize he was chewing on his bottom lip half to death. “You must return to your Lion. We need Voltron if we want to succeed: you must have nothing but confidence in your team.”  
  
“But whaddabout you? Whaddabout your team?” he hastily interjected, “How do you know if the lions you’re making’re even gonna _accept_ you guys? It took us awhile to figure it all out, you know, and we don’t really have that kind of time right now!”  
  
“I believe we’ll be able to pilot it.”  
  
“But _how?”_  
  
“You were all thrown together at the last minute, correct?”  
  
“Besides me and Hunk, and sorta Pidge…I guess…”  
  
“My team has already faced substantial challenges together.”  
  
Lance looked down at his feet in the Galra boots. He lifted his heel, and bounced it on the ground experimentally, but only lasted a few repetitions as it made him quite aware of how tight his belly was feeling. “And you’re gonna be the Black Lion,” he muttered, matter-of-factly.  
  
“That is the plan.” His brow furrowed a bit when he saw how conflicted Lance was when saying it. Was he still feeling a bit sad he hadn’t been given the Black Lion when Shiro had left their team?  
  
There was a part of Lance that felt a bit jealous, but not for the reasons Lotor guessed. He wanted to be Lotor’s right-hand. He wanted to be his sharpshooter. He wanted to protect him, assist him, and be with him through the fight against his father.  
  
However, he knew Lotor was right. If they wanted to stand a fighting chance against Zarkon, they’d need both Voltrons; the original and the copycat Lotor was engineering. As much as he had felt unsure about still being needed in the original team, apparently Shiro still could not fly the Black or Red Lion.  
  
Given that fact, they really _did_ need Lance. That thought gave him the little boost of self-esteem he needed to accept the fact that he would return to the team. He just hoped they, and Red, would still accept him.  
  
That is, if they agreed to their plan in the first place. Should they not cooperate, they would know their every move from then on, and be able to foil Lotor’s plans should they so choose. It was a risk that had to be taken to earn back their trust.  
  
The flier took off as Lotor plugged in some coordinates before leaning back in his chair. It was quiet, and he knew Lance had a lot on his mind. There were things to think about, but he didn’t want the human to worry his little head right off doing so. He’d taken him out to relax, after all, and hoped he’d been able to, at least for a little bit longer.  
  
“How’re you feeling?”  
  
“Full.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I ate too much,” Lance shook his head with a small smile, gazing over at Lotor through the reflection of the window. “Haven’t eaten that much in…man…I dunno _how_ long.”  
  
“I would like to hire a chef for you.”  
  
“Wha—? Chef?” He sat up a bit, looking over at the real Lotor with wide eyes.  
  
He cocked an eyebrow at his seemingly shocked look. “You deserve to eat whatever you desire.”  
  
“Oh, nah, man I couldn’t. That’s way too much trouble!” He held up his hands, palms facing outwards. That sounded not only like a huge hassle, but expensive, too.  
  
“Was that not how it was on Earth?”  
  
That made him pause, his hands falling back to his lap. He guessed, yeah, that was like how it was on Earth, but their situation was completely different out here. He had never thought he really had the right to choose—just getting any kind of food at all in space was sort of a blessing. They were at _war._  
  
“Well…I mean. If you get the ingredients, like…that weird meat stuff we ate tonight? If you get that stuff, I can learn how to cook it. I mean, I already sort of know how to cook a little. It’s just figuring out the space ingredients. Hunk’s actually got a whole journal of different things, uh, like spices and herbs, and then what they taste like from Earth…I wonder if he has that with him? I should ask when we get back. Anyway, so, maybe I could just cook for myself…but that takes a lot of time, too…hm…”  
  
Lotor watched him throw out all his ideas curiously, finding it intriguing to witness the man’s exact train of thought. “Whatever you wish, Beloved.”  
  
He moved to change the coordinates, grabbing Lance’s attention. His plans had clearly changed, but where were they going now? He held off on asking despite his building curiosity and went back to looking out the window, gazing out at the stars whirring by at top speeds.  
  
“You know….,”  
  
Lotor continued typing in commands, but his ear twitched, showing his interest.  
  
“…When I was little, this is all I dreamt of: Going into space. Watching the stars. Finding new planets. Meeting aliens. Like, I can’t even really begin to explain how it is there. Everything’s so…I dunno the word, uh… _limited?_ Here, people know about other planets and species. They can be rude, sure, but least they acknowledge ‘em. Back home? You can’t talk about it, people’ll think you’re a joke. Especially in flight school. The second anyone mentioned aliens, no one would ever take them seriously again.”  
  
“It seems quite naïve.”  
  
“Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t super crazy about looking all into aliens and UFO sightings and stuff, but…yeah.”  
  
“UFO?”  
  
“Oh! Like, ‘unidentified..objects.’ I think…that’s what it stands for?”  
  
“What about the ‘F’?”  
  
“Uh…,” Lance paused, giving it some thought before bouncing a little in his seat, “Flying! ‘Unidentified, _flying_ objects!’ So, that’s like, basically a spaceship. One that doesn’t belong to Earth, obviously.”  
  
Lotor leaned back in his seat, his hands draping over the arms of the chair as he spread his legs and relaxed. He loved hearing Lance talk, especially about his home world. Lotor had never had a home world, and had barely ever had a ‘home’ so the concept itself was foreign, but he’d began to understand it a little more each day with Lance at his side.  
  
“But yeah, so, like. Basically everyone back on Earth is in total denial about aliens, but we still had a lot of movies about space travel and aliens and stuff. Star Wars? You hear of Star Wars?”  
  
The other was silent. Lance took that as a ‘no.’  
  
“If we ever get back to Earth,” his face softened quite a bit at the idea, “there’s _so_ much I want to show you.”  
  
“I’d love to meet your family,” Lotor replied longingly, so much so that it startled Lance a bit, and he attentively shifted his eyes over to his direction.    
  
The way Lance talked about his family; his little nephews, his loving mother and father, his older siblings, and the way he always grinned and glowed when he did…something about it was near magical.  
  
“I’d love that, too…,” Lance softly hummed. 


	12. Knots

“Lance, what’re you…?”  
  
The group all stared at Lance, who was still dressed in the Galra uniform, similar to that of Lotor’s generals.  
  
“Oh, uh? My outfit? Or…?”  
  
“You look _evil,_ Dude.”  
  
Lance gave an awkward laugh, looking down at himself. Lotor tightened his grip on his waist, pulling him closer to himself in an act of reassurance.  “Yeah, well…it’s not like I have my armor with me, so I _thought_ it was a pretty good idea?”  
  
“I just wanted him to be safe,” Lotor replied, and it seemed to put the Paladins a little more at ease.  
  
“Where did you go?” Shiro raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, wondering where Lance would have needed the extra protection of armor.  
  
“We went to this amazing place! It was sorta like that one Coran took us to in Kar…Karthulian? Karthulian system? Remember that?”  
  
“How can we forget?”  
  
“I know, right? I'll tell more about it later, but even cooler was... _the space grocery store!”_  
  
_“What?!”_ That caught Hunk’s attention.  
  
Lance launched into an explanation of the magical place with automatic shopping carts that housed ingredients from all over the Universe. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been anything from Earth. Lotor told Lance that the planet was not of any interest to the Empire after the Blue Lion had been retrieved. It made sense, since aliens were still a bit of a myth back home, but it still had been a disappointment after going through every aisle in search of something that resembled his home.   
  
“Hunk.” Hunk’s eyes widened when he was directly addressed by Lotor as Lance’s excited storytelling winded down, and he immediately straightened to attention, like he was getting called on in class. “Would you be willing to provide us with one of your peace-bringing meals Lance has told me so much about with the ingredients we’ve collected?”  
  
He blinked. The request seemed out-of-the-blue…but it certainly wasn’t a bad one.  
  
“Well I’d need a little uh, actually, I’d need _a lot_ of ingredients to feed all these people…and if you really want something good, I’d _definitely_ need some—“  
  
“The kitchen should now be fully stocked with everything you’ll need to provide us with your finest.”

“Oh? G-great, great! That sounds…uh, _great!_ I can totally do that for ya.”  
  
“Can you make garlic knots?” Lance asked with a smile.  
  
“Yes!” Allura piped up, getting excited over the idea.  
  
“I think we’d all like that,” Shiro smiled, recalling the simpler time when they had all eaten them together. Back then, they didn’t know how good they had it. Things seemed so…different now, especially aboard this Galra ship, with Lance in the embrace of an alien prince and wearing the armor of their enemy.

They agreed to rest while Hunk went to cook the meal, at which they'd further discuss future plans.  
  
As Lotor lead Lance back to their room, he cleared his throat. There was obviously something on his mind and even Lance, who usually took awhile to catch on to hints, got that something was up right away. “What? What’re you thinkin’?”  
  
He seemed happy now. Happier than he had been in a long time, and that was making Lotor just as giddy. If only Lance’d agree to let him spoil him like this every single day!  
  
“What is a _‘garlic knot’?”_ The trepidation was evident in his voice as he asked, “You mentioned them when telling our story, however, you never quite explained what it is."  
  
“Oh they’re like…y’know…bread…like knots…”  
  
“Must I remind you, Lance?” He clicked his tongue, his cheeks darkening as he fiddled with his cowlick, “We most certainly have different definitions of ‘knot.’”  
  
“What?” Lance blinked. He had no idea what Lotor was going on about until he gave it a little more thought, and then—“Oh my _God,_ Lotor! Not that _thing!”_  
  
Galra knots were of a very different nature and were not meant to be eaten, though if Lance wanted to try, Lotor certainly wouldn’t try too hard to stop him…  
  
Lance had burst out laughing, falling down on to the bed face-first before rolling on to his back, tears streaming down his cheeks from how hard he was cackling. Lotor just watched him with a furrowed brow and small frown.

"Calm down," he insisted, trying not to chuckle, himself, at his own ignorance. "With that out of the way, let us enjoy this moment of peace."

They took showers and Lance changed back into his Earth clothes, urging Lotor to wear the same outfit he had on the day they met. It made him a lot more comfortable walking around in jeans when the other wasn’t so geared up in Galra armor!  
  
“Hey, I don’t want this to sound dumb,” He said softly, as the other finally joined him back on the bed, in his fancy clothes. They were sitting so close to one another, their knees pressed up against each other and it only made Lance’s heart beat even faster—as if he wasn’t nervous enough to say what was on his mind!  
  
“I am sure it will not.”  
  
It was that day on his mind, as his eyes roamed over Lotor’s body dressed in the foreign fabrics, head-to-toe.  
  
“That time when we met…when you first held my hand…,” he took hold of Lotor’s hand to emphasize his point, and looked right into his pretty blue eyes as he spoke slowly, so carefully, “you said: ‘Thank you for showing me love.’ Right? Well…what…what did you…what…hm…”  
  
Why was he stuttering so hard now, of all times?! _‘Get it together, Lance!’_ he scolded himself with a small shake of his head.  
  
“What did…”  
  
Thank goodness Lotor was as patient as he was.  
  
After a deep breath, Lance finally finished his question. “What did you mean by that, e-exactly? Like…?”  
  
Lotor sighed, his eyes falling shut and a smile graced his lips. Lance was grateful for how calm he looked…it helped put himself at ease, which was much needed in the moment.  
  
“Before meeting you, I did not know what it felt like to care for something— _someone._ I valued my comrades, yes, but…not the way I treasure you. I had always heard of it… _’love.’_ It is something I used to scoff at: my father did not love me. My own kind banished me from their Empire. I had no reason to think I would ever find such a thing. I thought I’d run out of chances; but then _you_ came along.”  
  
He raised his hand to his mouth, kissing it softly, but Lance wasn’t having any of that cutesy little acts; he went right in and threw himself on Lotor, knocking him back down on to the bed and hugging him tight, clinging like his life depended on it.  
  
The Prince was about to question if this was round two for the evening or not just as Lance’s voice could be heard faintly.  
  
“Don’t say it so…so _bluntly,”_ he muttered against the crook of his neck, pushing his nose into it and inhaling deeply. He smelled so good.  
  
“It’s true, Lance,” he returned the hug, wrapping his arms securely around the human and keeping him close, “I love you.”  
  
His heart was hammering in his chest…was it going to jump out, this time, for real? It sure felt like it.  
  
This was the first time Lotor had said those three, specific words and it couldn’t have come under better circumstances; after the most romantic night after one of the most stressful days he’d had in space (it honestly had been more difficult telling the Paladins about his relationship than fighting Zarkon himself!). He wanted to return the words, but he didn’t know how. He wanted them to be pre-empted with meaningful words like Lotor’s had, but he didn’t know what to say, which words to choose...  
  
How did he easily explain how he thought Lotor smelled like home and how he loved when his ears twitched, how he loved how he toyed with his cowlick between his fingers and how he thought it was really attractive that he kept such good care of himself: How Lotor was the first one to really listen to him and let him complain all he wanted, vent and rant and cry and then give him meaningful, constructive advice, genuinely trying to help him better himself?  
  
Did those three words even encapsulate all of that feeling?  
  
When he finally summoned the courage to pull away from his neck and take a look at Lotor, he saw the other was just as embarrassed as he felt. His cheeks were violet and his eyes were trembling. His smile faltered nervously when they finally met each other with a questioning gaze. There was nothing else he could say.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
Lotor’s eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth but Lance stammered on before he could, “I love…your accent. And your smell, your pointy ears, your pretty skin. And, and…your _hair,_ and the way you make me laugh _all_ the time, and the way you laugh at all _my_ stupid jokes. And the way you listen to me and talk to me and just… _accept_ me for who I am. _Without judging._ I love that you’re Galra. I love that you’re Altean. I love that you’re _you,_ Lotor…and your weird knot, even though it’s not garlic! And I’m probably forgetting a lot of over things but I love a lot about you and I can’t figure out how to say it easily, but…but, yeah.”  
  
He chuckled, sitting up slowly, bringing Lance with him, a hand cradling the small of his back, the other wrapping behind his head to support him as they moved up. Lance wrapped his long legs around his waist, pulling them even closer together as he kissed him once more.

* * *

“I’ve been here like, _forever_ already and I didn’t even know a place like this existed!” Lance exclaimed as he was lead to the dining room. It was similar to the one at the castle: a huge, long table with seats lining each side, and one at the head.  
  
“It’s never had a use until now,” Lotor smiled. “Where would you like to sit?”  
  
“Uh, I usually sit…here!” Lance picked a seat in the middle of the table.  
  
Lotor blinked, finding that position sort of random. He’d expected Lance to want to sit at the head. “Where would you like me to sit?”  
  
“Uh, Hunk usually sits next to me, and Keith’s on the other side…you can sit across!”  
  
That seemed a bit distant but Lotor did not argue and moved around the table, pulling out the seat and sitting down, propping his chin up on the back of his hand to get comfortable. Lance plopped in to his own seat, smiling brightly over the table at him.  
  
“It seems I’ve the best seat at the table,” he hummed, the sing-song tone of his voice making his flirtatious intent clear.  
  
“This way, you can look right at my _handsome face_ the whole time,” Lance shot right back with a grin.  
  
“Precisely.”  
  
“Prince Lotor,” Acxa was at the door, a hand on the frame and her face showing unusual nerves.  
  
“Acxa,” he responded, turning his head to her.  
  
“The big one has announced that the feast is ready. Shall I collect the other Paladins?”  
  
“Please do.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” she nodded and left the room promptly after.  
  
“Are they all gonna eat with us?” Lance asked curiously once they were left alone in the room again. Counting the chairs, there should be plenty, even if they would be a large party.  
  
“Ah, you’re right,” Lotor’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up, “I’d best go invite them myself.”  
  
The human just giggled as Lotor quickly strode out of the room, leaving Lance by himself at the table. His fingers slowly traced the veins pulsing with Galra energy throughout the edge of the table. Were these decorative? What was their purpose? Did all Galra tables have them?  
  
His smile eventually faded from his lips as he fell deep into thought. Would Hunk’s food  be enough to coax the others into agreeing to work together with Lotor, their previously sworn enemy?    
  
He’d like to think so. If that, combined with their story, wasn’t enough, then there really wasn’t any hope. His face fell and he sighed, sinking down to his folded arms and resting his head on them.  
  
Lotor seemed to have no qualms about killing his own father. Perhaps that willingness was something to fear, but when Lance thought about it, he could understand.  
  
Killing was wrong. That was certainly true and it never changed, even when he made it into space. But Zarkon was despicable, and a threat not only to Earth and mankind, but all living beings! They were suffering—no, they were dying, entire planets were dying—under his rule and it had to change. Killing him was the only way Lotor could become the true emperor and begin to clean up this mess of a Universe.  
  
And the only way Lance could return home.  
  
If Lotor was emperor, Voltron wouldn’t have to be everyone’s savior all the time. There’d still be a ton of work to be done, but surely there’d be enough time for Lance to go home every once in awhile.  
  
He smiled, closing his eyes and snuggling into his arms. He felt so good, thinking of home…thinking of bringing Lotor back home with him to meet his family. Thinking of how he’d retell the story he’d just told the Paladins, about the things he’d elaborate more on and the things he’d tell less of. He giggled as he imagined his little nephews being totally grossed out at the idea of their uncle kissing someone.    
  
They’d probably pull on his ears to see if they were real, stare into his eyes and try to figure out how the sclera was yellow instead of white. His fangs would be impressive to them, as well.  
  
They could play sports in the backyard. Lance’d teach Lotor how to play everything and anything. They could spend hours holed up in his bedroom playing video games and eating his mom’s cooking. They could go to Lance’s old schools and he could show him his yearbooks.  
  
These thoughts flooded his head until he was practically having a daydream, until Ezor’s loud voice snapped him out of it. Suddenly, there were a bunch of people filing into the room, and it became very noisy.  
  
He straightened up in his chair and cleared his throat, looking around at everyone as they took reluctant seats at the table.  
  
“C’mon, guys, everyone sit down! I can’t wait to tell you what we made!” Ezor cried happily, Hunk at her side.  
  
The other Generals looked more reluctant than anyone else, save Allura.  
  
“Do we _really_ have to eat Ezor’s cooking?”  
  
“Hey, what’s _that_ supposed to mean? I’m Hunk’s new apprentice!” Ezor replied proudly, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t I look cute in this?” She turned to Hunk. “What’s this called again?”  
  
“An apron!”  
  
“Yeah! Don’t I look cute in this apron?! _Acxaaaaa~!”_ She whined, leaning on her arm, trying to get her rare praise. The other couldn’t help but smile and give a little affirming nod.  
  
“Hey,” Lance rose from his chair, reaching over to fist-bump Hunk, “thanks, Buddy.”  
  
“Dude, it was like a privilege cooking in such a stocked kitchen! Even Sal’s didn’t have that many ingredients.”  
  
“I was afraid it would not be enough,” Lotor said as he took his seat once more, his hair now neatly braided and resting over his right shoulder.  
  
Hunk blinked. “Wait, what? Really?”  
  
“Lotor’s unfamiliar with the good life, Hunk. He grew up eating space goo. He kept saying he didn’t know if it was enough.”  
  
“I just did not know what a legendary meal of yours would entail. I am relieved it was satisfactory.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, Dude.” Hunk sat on Lance’s side, just as Lance said he would. He smiled and joined his best friend at the table, leaning in to whisper one more thanks in his ear. Hunk was making an effort to create a bridge between the Galra and the Paladins, and that meant more to Lance than he could ever properly express.  
  
But Hunk understood and he just gave a little nod and wave of his hand. “It was nothin’, Lance.”  
  
Ezor excitedly explained and described each dish, with many corrections and filled-in-blanks from Hunk. Apparently she’d just been so excited to present all the food that she’d forgotten a lot of the details they’d rehearsed together in the kitchen. No one really minded, though.  
  
“Sooo…soooooo…everyone, eat!”  
  
_“Bon appetit,”_ Hunk corrected her with a smile before helping himself.  
  
“Lotor, try the garlic knot!” Lance grinned, trying his best to stifle his laughter at the reminder of their inside joke.  
  
He picked it up and looked at it closely, smiling when he saw some familiarity in shape. Lance stared at him eagerly—so excited for him to try his favorite food.  
  
“It tastes…strange. What is that strong flavor?”  
  
“That’ll be the garlic! Well, not actually garlic, but the closest thing we have to it here,” Hunk replied, quite eager to talk about his cooking.  
  
But Keith seemed to want to discuss other things, leaving his plate untouched. “When’re we going to cut the crap? We have things to talk about; questions need to be answered.”  
  
Leave it to Keith to ruin the mood. Lance turned to him with a glare, “What? _What_ questions? Ask away, Dude!”  
  
His eyebrow twitched in annoyance; and Lance called him the hot-head, yet he was the one raising his voice at him?  
  
Getting irritated so quickly wouldn’t help Lance’s case and he knew that, but Keith always put him on edge without fail.  
  
“What exactly do you propose we do from here?”  
  
“No, no, what I wanna know is what happens next in the story!” Pidge piped up after swallowing down her pan-seared vegetables.  
  
Lance glanced across the tabletop to see Lotor sniffing at a vegetable and crinkling up his nose a little. He snickered, all anger completely seeping out of him. As always, Lotor had some magical way of calming him down without even seemingly trying.  
  
“Right, so...that night, after the mall…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the abrupt end to this chapter. Two more chapters left! The next one should come a lot sooner than this one; sorry that it took so long!


	13. Past

Lance rolled the communication device around his palm. So…it was _Prince Lotor_ he’d been pouring his heart out to all along. The idea, while crazy, was surprisingly not that hard to swallow. His feelings were still there: they were still just as strong as they’d been prior to finding out who his mystery man was.   
  
He closed his eyes, clutching on to the device as he struggled to decide what was next. His heart was telling him to put the communicator to use and talk the night away like always; his head was telling him that was crazy.   
  
“What would the others even say?” He mumbled as he flopped down on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his hand that was cradling the device going limp, allowing it to tumble down to the mattress next to him. “Call me a _‘traitor?’”_ He clicked his tongue at the thought.   
  
It certainly wasn’t a pleasant one.   
  
Hunk would understand, he was sure of it. They’d bickered, sure, but never actually fought, and that was mostly because they understood each other almost completely after being friends for so many years.   
  
But how could he even tell his best friend he was dating the Universe’s enemy?   
  
No matter how many times he asked himself that, he couldn’t come up with an answer, and he knew only one person he could go to with this problem…

“It—it might be bad, but…but I still feel the same way when I really think about it,” Lance told Lotor honestly, clutching on to the device as he spoke as steadily into it as he could manage. But sometimes he just couldn’t stop the stutters.   
  
“The same…?” Lotor questioned softly, wanting clarity, wanting to know that Lance still completely wanted this as much as he did.   
  
“I really like you…a lot. More than anyone ever before. Not…not like I’ve had anyone before! But…well..and…just, when I think about not talking to you anymore, my stomach gets all _weird_ and _tight_ like I’m gonna throw up again. I can’t imagine my life without you now, I guess. Like, it would really, _really_ suck. _A lot!”_  
  
Lotor was shocked, but felt that newly familiar warmth in his chest, causing him to break into an inescapable grin on the other side of their transmission. Before he could come up with something to say, anything to describe this odd bliss, Lance continued on.   
  
“But…like, there’s still a lot we gotta talk about. I believe you when you say you’ll leave us alone and all that, but this still changes… _everything.”_  
  
“I know.”  
  
Lance bit his lip as his cheeks burned. He ducked his head to hide it from no one. “Yeah, so…I guess what I keep thinking about…more than whether or not I still like you is, like, how the _heck_ am I gonna tell my friends? The Paladins? Y'know, Keith, the guy that talks about _murdering_ you every other second that he’s not talking about _Shiro?”_   
  
Lotor sighed, deep in thought. Lance waited patiently for an answer, which could not be provided so quickly. “I believe I’ll need some time to think this through. We must put a considerable amount of thought into a well-devised plan.”  
  
“Yeah… _yeah,”_ the disappointment was evident in Lance’s voice, but Lotor was no magician; he couldn’t pull an answer to an insanely difficult question out of thin-air, no matter how intelligent he is.   
  
“Do not sound so disheartened, my Blue Paladin. I promise you I will think of something.”   
  
He smiled at that, feeling the blush return to his cheeks because of the nickname. He shifted his position in bed, wishing more than anything he could see the other…which gave him an idea! Maybe that was possible?   
  
“Hey, can this thing send video, too?”  
  
“Push the button on the top right edge.”   
  
Lance looked at the communicator, turning it on its side to examine it’s edge where there was, in fact, a little black nib. He pushed it in, and gasped a little as the device’s rim lit up in a bright purple, and suddenly a hologram was being projected out of it.   
  
A hologram of his ridiculously handsome… _boyfriend?_ Is that what they were, now? Lance flushed at the thought, rubbing the back of his head nervously as he looked everywhere but at Lotor’s pretty face.   
  
“What’s wrong?” Lotor cocked a brow, seemingly genuinely concerned. While the other’s behavior was adorable, the distress was evident, as it had been earlier.   
  
“You just…look really…uh…,” he glanced back over at the hologram, and felt like falling face-first on to his pillow when he saw that Lotor had his hair up in a bun. His look of adorable confusion wasn’t helping, either.   
  
Had he no idea how hot he was?!  
  
“…Lance?”  
  
“Hoooo—,” he paused, trying to think of how he could redeem himself at this point, but then realized there was no way to, “—tttt.”   
  
“Hot?”   
  
‘He doesn’t know what it means! How much more can you embarrass yourself, Lance?!’   
  
“I assure you, I’m at a perfectly comfortable temperature. You, however…,”  
  
 _‘Play it off!’_   
  
“It means attractive in Human,” Lance muttered with a casual wave of his hand, “But uh, at home we have like, they’re called cell phones. They have little cameras in them, and it’s sorta like this. It’s called Face Time.”   
  
“That sounds interesting.”  
  
“It is. When I was little, no one really had cell phones, but now everyone has ‘em. I used to Face Time home every Friday at the Garrison!”  
  
“Earth seems to be developing at quite the rate.”   
  
“Yeah, I guess. We’re still worlds behind, though. I wonder if I can sneak some cool alien stuff back home…?”   
  
“Like me?”  
  
Lance snorted, pressing his face into his baseball tee’s sleeve to hide his laughter. Lotor was smiling with a furrowed brow, able to keep his composure, unlike Lance.   
  
Lance was able to enjoy the comforts of his bed and the eye candy that was the Lotor hologram as they talked the night away as always. If there had been a connection between them before, it was definitely a stronger bond now. 

* * *

The Voltron coalition continued on. They went planet to planet, swiftly avoiding Lotor’s own coalition: Lance knew which planets Lotor was planning on persuading himself to not only join the Galra Empire, but accept him as their new leader to head a fight against Zarkon.   
  
They continued to chat nightly about Lotor’s plans, his time during exile, adventures Lance’d had with Team Voltron, stories of Earth and his large family, and eventually, the topic of meeting again cropped up.   
  
“I wanna… _touch you,”_ Lance admitted sheepishly as he rested his hot cheek on the pillow, avoiding Lotor’s gaze and instead fixing his eyes on the wall across from his bed.   
  
“I share that sentiment.”   
  
“Can’t we just…can’t you just _come here?_ Just for a night?”   
  
“You know the answer just as well as I, my Love.”   
  
“But I _need_ you,” he whined, sitting up in bed. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand being away from his alien prince. The memory of his touch at the Space Mall was beginning to fade, and at the moment, it was all he had. This had sent Lance into a sort of frantic desperation, trying to come up with ways they could meet up without the others having an idea or raising any suspicion. He was trying to avoid telling them the truth as long as he could.   
  
“Do not do this to me—it pains me to hear you ask like this. I want it just as badly…but there is nothing I can do without your consent to move forward,” Lotor told him gently, and Lance knew it was true.   
  
Every time Lotor had suggested a peace treaty meeting with the Paladins, Lance’d brushed it off. He loved getting to talk to him and see him each night, and having a secret relationship had its share of excitement; it was like a never-ending honeymoon, but then, there were nights of torture like _this._

Nights where Lance thought he’d _die_ should he not have Lotor next to him in bed that reminded him how necessary hosting a meeting really was.  
  
All he wanted was for everyone to be on good terms. He wanted to stop pretending, stop lying, stop having to keep his mouth shut about this amazing guy that he absolutely couldn’t get enough of.   
  
But that was much easier said then done.   
  
“I can’t take it, Dude…,” He ran a hand through his hair, groaning at the thought of finally telling the others.   
  
“Then perhaps now is the time.”

* * *

A fit of love and lust had driven Lance to agreeing to Lotor’s plan: they’d meet on a neutral planet, Lotor would explain his terms to the Paladins, and they’d move ahead with recruitment. They shared the same goal, after all—there was no reason they couldn’t work together.  
  
The way Lotor had described it made it seem so easy, but it turned out it wasn’t the right time.   
  
Not yet.  
  
 _‘Not yet, not yet, not yet! I can’t do this!’_   
  
Lance had freaked out, shooting Lotor an utterly terrified look with huge eyes and clenched teeth as the Galran prince approached them. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead to his cheek, distress evident.

Seeing his Beloved in such a state caused Lotor to pause mid-step, his own eyes widening.  
  
“It was a trap!”   
  
_“Coran, we need back-up!”_   
  
“Get ready to attack!” Keith’s bayard formed a sword and he raised it with a battle cry, ready to charge ahead of the others, but Lance threw himself in front of Keith, holding his arms out to try and stop him. The other stuttered to a stop and Lotor quickly took the moment of shock to retreat, heart heavy with disappointment.  
  
Lance hadn’t been ready.   
  
“Lance! What are you doing?! _We had him!”_   
  
Keith was screaming at him. The others were silent, seemingly trying to process what'd just happened.   
  
But Lance couldn’t offer any kind of explanation for his reaction, no matter how aggressively Keith tried to interrogate him, or how kindly Hunk offered to speak with him in private about what was going on.   
  
When they got back to the castle, he locked himself in his room before they could hound him anymore on the subject, immediately calling for Lotor. He felt like total trash: not only was he unable to introduce the peace treaty to the Paladins as planned, but he'd let Lotor down and prolonged their relationship progressing.  
  
“You got nervous; it’s understandable.”   
  
“They were ready to…to _kill_ you,” he choked at the thought.   
  
“I wouldn’t allow it. Besides, I have a back-up plan.”  
  
“So you knew I’d fail?” Lance murmured.    
  
“Lance, you never cease to surprise me. I’m still uncertain of what you’re capable of, but I do know you played a large role in taking my father down once. That being said, I am sure you could handle taking care of _me_ in the same manner.”  
  
“I wouldn’t!”  
  
“I know you wouldn’t, as you know I wouldn’t. However, it is still possible; as was the idea that we’d be unable to follow through with our plan today. That's why I've devised a second plan.”    
  
“Fine, what? What'd'ya got in mind?"   
  
“There is a way we can be together while further prolonging your peer’s judgement…”  
  
Lance perked up at that like an excited little puppy, finding the idea rather appealing.  
  
“We'll stage a kidnapping tomorrow evening.” 

* * *

“And the rest, well…yeah. Then you guys came here and I sorta freaked, but…”   
  
Lance couldn’t really find any more words at the moment: this is where the story got pretty difficult to retell. His wounds were too fresh, his emotions were too raw and real.

Luckily, Lotor took over for him, as if sensing his nerves and anxiety.  
  
His eyes moved to each and every pair that was on him at the table as he spoke slowly when Lance could not, “My creation is nearly finished. We will have an ample supply of quintessence at our disposal, and our _not-Voltron_ running within a few quintents, ready to place an _all-out attack_ on Zarkon and his troops. Now, then…,” he cocked a brow, unable to stop a grin from forming, “Paladins of Voltron, will you assist us?”


	14. Start

“The castle isn’t exactly fitted to house… _all_ of you for an extended period of time,” Allura said tentatively as all the Galra hybrids paraded in after Lotor. “It may be a bit tight. There is only one pool, after all.”  
  
“Lotor and I can share my room, right?” He looked over to Lotor, who nodded without thought. He was not aware of how small the quarters would be; he and Lance would be squished together in the bed!  
  
They strayed from the group and he lead Lotor to his room, giving him a tour on the way, telling him where the training room was, where the rec room was, where the bathrooms were, and where the stupid Altean pool was that Allura had mentioned.  
  
Lotor chuckled when Lance told him the story of when he’d discovered it was on the ceiling, finding it very amusing.   
  
“So, this is it!” Lance smiled, throwing his arms out to the side as he strut into his bedroom. While he had grown comfortable in Lotor’s personal suite, it felt amazing to be back here. He plopped down on his bed with a big smile. The Prince joined him.  
  
“This is where we spent all those nights talking?”  
  
“Yep!”  
  
“I see…”  
  
Lance blinked, cocking his head to one side. “Uh? Are you thinking about something?”  
  
“I’m just thinking about that night…when you—“  
  
Lance hummed loudly, and tackled Lotor in a bear hug to stop him from vocally reminding him of the very embarrassing, but very sexy memory.  
  
It wouldn’t be too long before they did something like that again, anyway. Tonight was a celebration, after all. 

* * *

"Killbot Phantasm!” Pidge explained, a bright smile on her face as she cheered.  
  
“Whoa! It’s working?!” Lance blinked, looking from the old-school RPG to Lotor, and back again. He’d left the room to grab snacks, and came back to a working video game system from his childhood!  
  
“A little bit of Quintessence can solve a lot.”  
  
“I guess so. No wonder this stuff’s hunted for…,” Pidge mumbled, but she didn’t have much time to mull over that fact; the video game she and Lance had bought so long ago was _finally_ working, and she was ready to beat down all the nasty bosses in some heart-thumping, turn-based  action.  
  
Lance plopped down next to her and beamed up at Lotor, tugging on his arm until he joined them on the floor, following his lead and crossing his legs pretzel-style.  
  
“Time for your first lesson in our Earth culture, Dude,” he plopped the controller in Lotor’s hands. Pidge peeked over Lance’s shoulder, smiling just as brightly at the Prince. The two of them looked so happy, Lotor couldn’t help but humor them by trying the game out. 

* * *

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” Keith raised a brow, as well as his sword.  
  
Lotor shrugged, his own sword still sheathed. “I’d believe Lance’s word is all you need.”  
  
Keith snorted, rolling his eyes. _“That guy’s_ word…,” he muttered, but as he looked to the ceiling, he thought.  
  
His right-hand man. The current pilot of the Red Lion, his previous Lion. Past aside, in their current situation, Keith really had no choice but to trust Lance, both inside the Lions and out.  
  
Even with something as strange as this.  
  
_“Fine.”_ Lotor unsheathed his sword and took stance. “On the count of three. One, two… _three!”_  
  
Their swords clashed and Lotor’s intent to kill was non-existent; in fact, he seemed persistent on defending rather than attacking. It annoyed Keith a little—just a little.  
  
But it was invigorating.  
  
Keith had yet to be so energized by a spar, and he wasn’t sure if it was the borderline patronizing critiques Lotor gave as they fought or if it was because Lotor was so unlike any enemy, or friend, he’d ever faced.  
  
The way he fought reminded him of the Blade of Marmora: like he had something irreplaceable to protect.  
  
His sword clattered as his bum hit the ground firmly, and he was left defenseless.  
  
“What…do you fight for? What’re you…protecting?” he panted as he reached up to grab on to Lotor’s hand. The Prince pulled him up from the floor effortlessly, the smile that had been on his face the whole time only growing.  
  
“Love.” 

* * *

“It has been an honor to meet you face-to-face, Princess.”  
  
Allura turned her nose up to Lotor; she wasn’t impressed with his sweet talking, even if it had gotten Lance into his pocket…or, possibly…more? She flushed a little at the thought.  
  
“My mother was Altean…I’ve done all that I can to learn about the people and the culture…and I never would’ve expected to meet another.”  
  
“Me…either,” she said slowly, turning her eyes back on him, curious this time.  
  
“The two planets I would call my home…Altea, and Daibazaal…they are both gone. I know how lonely it feels.”  
  
She cleared her throat before she got too emotional, straightening up and avoiding his direct gaze. “Well, I have Coran. He’s like a father to me.”  
  
“That’s right, you’re quite lucky in that regard, Princess. Do I have the honor of meeting him, too?”  
  
“He should be around here somewhere…let me go look—“ As Allura moved to stand up, the three little mice popped out from underneath the console, giving her their most innocent looks as they began to excitedly squeak.  
  
“What? You want to put on a performance? Now? …I suppose…I’m not sure if… Well…all right. I will ask.” She turned to Lotor with a furrowed brow and small smile, “The mice would like to know if you are interested in seeing their latest routine.”  
  
“That sounds, ah… _lovely.”_ Lotor blinked, moving to look underneath the console where Allura’d been having a seemingly one-sided conversation. 

* * *

“Did you win your game?” Lotor asked as Lance returned to the front deck when called, all armored up like Allura had requested. Lotor’d been waiting there for some time, but it’d given him a chance to unload a little with Coran, an interesting and kind Altean man Lance had told him much about beforehand.  
  
“We gave up…that _stupid boss!"_  
  
“Yeah… _that_ boss. I think we need to change our tactic. Maybe I should control the healer…,” Pidge mused, sticking on her helmet before the briefing for their first dual mission together started.  
  
“If anyone has relentless determination, it’s you, Beloved. I’m sure you’ll do it,” Lotor hummed, taking Lance’s hand and squeezing it through his glove. “I like it here,” he added, and Lance couldn’t get over how utterly beautiful he was.  
  
“Yeah? Well I like you.”  
  
“I like you, too,” he laughed, his little fangs showing this time and Lance’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
He was happy.  
  
“It’s time for the briefing! Everyone, listen up!” Allura clapped her hands, looking across all the half-Galra and the Paladins.  
  
He was scared.  
  
“Lance, don’t be so lovey-dovey or whatever!”  
  
He was brimming with self-doubt.  
  
“Aw, let ‘em. Lance’s been keepin’ it secret for way too long!” Hunk slapped Keith on the back with a grin.  
  
But with all that doubt came confidence. Day by day, slowly…one would overtake the other, and he knew Lotor would still be at his side when he really would be the strong, confident Paladin that Lotor always told him he knew he was.  
  
“Any questions?”  
  
And more than anything else, he was in love.  
  
_Shoot._ He hadn’t heard what Allura had said at all! He clutched his helmet in his hand, keeping it hoisted against his hip. A briefing shouldn’t be so emotional! He told himself to chill out, but even as he took a few deep breaths…  
  
Lotor’s lips were on his jawline, his cheeks, his eyes. Lance gave a little shudder, reaching out to embrace his lover as best he could as he kissed away his tears.  
  
“You taste like a burger,” Lotor said with a small frown as he pulled away just enough to get a good look at Lance’s face again.  
  
That made the young man burst into giggles, wiping away the rest of his tears and facing away, cheeks slightly pink. “W-What? What the heck…”  
  
It took him a moment, but then he realized—his tears were salty. Lotor just smiled at him with a slightly furrowed brow, confusion evident on his own face, as if he didn’t exactly know what he’d just said, himself.  
  
That sweet look gave Lance the motivation to push ahead; he was going to confront everything head-on. No regrets of the past, no fear for the future: just perseverance.  
  
There was so much left they had to do. Lance wanted to play video games with him, Lance wanted to spar with him, Lance wanted to cook with him, to bake with him, to eat with him. To be intimate again with him.  
  
But most importantly…  
  
“Okay, okay, all right, everyone!"

Everyone turned to Lance. 

"We’re totally gonna kick Zarkon’s butt! So let’s do this together!”  
  
“Together,” Lotor agreed with a soft smile and a squeeze to Lance’s hand. He nodded, turning to the group and thrusting his free hand out to the middle of them with a little sniff.  
  
_‘No more tears,’_ he promised himself. _‘Today you’re a new man, Lance!’_  
  
With wide smiles, everyone threw their hand on top of one another as Lance cheered, “When I say ‘Vol,’ you say ‘tron!’ Vol—“  
  
_“Tron!”_ “Voltron.”  
  
“God dammit, Keith.”  
  
_**~Fin~**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: There is a new fic in this same universe that goes along with this story called Sugar! It's listed as another part in this series so just click the link to find it! It's going to be smut throughout the story, so like, all the smut scenes that would've been in Salt but weren't because I wanted to keep it Teen. Check it out! 
> 
> My goal was to finish this fic by s4, and I made it! \ o / Sorry that the last chapter was a little rough…I honestly just needed to get this weight off my shoulders. This fic was originally meant to just be an excuse for space mall Lancelot, but it evolved into a little more LOL
> 
> I’ll be starting a new Lancelot multichapter fic probably a few days after s4 drops (I've got about 45% of chapter 1 done). Here’s to hoping we get some interaction in season 4, too!!
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading through this whole fic! I haven't written a fic in about 4 years, so it was really exciting to get such a warm welcome back. I just hope ya'll enjoyed it!


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